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.1 


I 


I 


SOLITUDE 


"CONSIDERED  WITH 

RESPECT  TO  ITS  INFLUENCE 


ON  THE 

MIND  AND  THE  HEART. 


"Written  oiiginaiiy  in  Germati, 

By  m.  Zimmerman, 

Aulic  Counfellcr  and  Phyfician  to  his  Britsnnic  Majefty  it  Fatjavtr, 


Tranllated  fiom  the  French  of  J.  B.  MERCIER, 


TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED, 

THE  LIFE  OF  ZIMMERMAN. 


Sol  IT  UP  E  ou  je  trouve  une  douceur  feci  etc 

Lieux  que  j'aimai  toujours,  ne  pourrai-je  jamais, 

Loin  dumunde  et  du  bruit,  gouterrombre  et  Je  fral$  ? 

Oh  !   qui  m'anetera  fous  vos  fomlMCS  afyles  ? 

'Quand  pourront  les  Neuf  Sceurs,  loin  des  cours  et  des  vilies, 

W  occuper  tout  entier 

La  Fokta)>e, 
Le  Son^e  d'uti  Habitant  du  Mogol,  L.  XI.  Fable  IF, 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED  FOR  JOSEPH  BUMSTEABy 
(Printer  and  Boi-kfelier) 

Sold  by  him  at  No.  20,  Union-Street — and  by 

Bookfellers  in  various  parts  of  the  United  Stat«s. 
1804. 


PREFACE 


OF  THE 


French  I'ranjlator. 


^IL  HE  title  of  this  work  will  perhaps  give? 
fome  alarm  to  delicate  ears  :  the  word  Solitude'' 
may  infpire  melancholy  and  unfavorable  ideas  \  it  is- 
however  only  neceilary  to  read  a  few  pages  to  be 
undeceived.  The  author  is  not  one  of  thofe  extrav- 
agant MtfantJiropcs  who  would  compel  mankind,  born 
for  fociety,  and  connected  with  it  by  a  variety  of 
indilToluble  ties,  to  retire  into  forefts,  to  inhabit  dens 
and  caves,  and  to  live  only  with  wild  beafts  \  he  is 
R  friend  to  humanity,  a  fenfible  and  virtuous  indi- 
vidual, an  honefh  citizen,  honored  by  the  efteem  of 
his  Prince,  who  endeavors  to  enlighten  the  mines 
of  his  fellow- creatures  upon  a  lubjecl  the  mcll  in- 
terel'ting  to  them — the  attainnient  of  Hafpine/s,- 

No  writer  ever  appeared  m.ore  completely  fat^ 
hfied  that  man  is  born  for  focitty,  or  leems  to  hr.ve 
better  ftudied  all  the  focial  duties  of  life,  than  M. 
7Ammerman.  But  what  is  focicty  ?  What  are  the 
focial  duties  of  life  ?  Thefe  are  the  queftions  which 
the  author  examines.  The  important  chara£rers  of 
Father,  Hufband,  Son,  and  Citizen,  im.pofc:  on  Man 
certain  indifpenfable  obligations  which  are  ever  dear 
to  the  virtuous  heart  ;  they  eftabhfh  between  him, 
his  country,  and  his  family,  relaticns  too  neceffr.ry 
and  too  agreeable  to  be  neglected.      It  is  not,  how- 


iV 


PREFACE. 


ever,  m  tuiriultaous  joys,  in  the  noify  pleafures  of 
public  entertainments,  in  biindly  following  the  chi- 
meras of  ambition,  the  illuficns  of  felf-Iove,  or  the 
fpeculations  of  cieilrej  that  men  muft  expert  to  feel 
the  charms  of  thofe  rt:ciproc:iJ  ties  which  unite  them 
to  fociety  ,  to  perceive  the  dignity  of  thofe  duties 
which  nature  made  productive  of  fo  many  pleafures  ; 
io  tafte  that  true  felicity  which  is  accompanied  by 
independence  and  content  a  felicity  fa  feldom  defir- 
cd  only  becaufe  it  is  fo  little  known,  but  which  every 
man  may  cultivate  within  his  own  brealt. 

Ab-S,  who  has  not  frequently  experienced  the 
aieceflity  of  entering  into  that  facred  afylum  as  a  ref- 
uge from  the  misfortunes  of  Ufe,.or  as  a  relief  from 
•the  fatigues  of  fatiattd  pleafures  ?  Yes,  all  men, 
from  the  fordid  fchemer  who  daily  finks  under  the 
-weight  of  his  labors,  to  the  proud  ftatefman  intoxi- 
cated by  the  incenfe  of  popular  applaufe,  experience 
the  defire  of  terminating  their  precarious  career  ; 
cvtry  bofom  feels  an  anxiety  for  repofe  ;  every  mind 
fondly  wiflies  to  fteal  from  the  vortex,  of  a  bufy  and 
unquiet  life,  to  enjoy  tranquillity  in  the  foHtude  of 
•retirement.  Under  the  peaceful  fhades  of  Solitude, 
the  mind  of  man  regenerates,  and  his  facuUies  ac- 
quire new  force  •,  it  is  there  alone  that  the  happy 
can  enjoy  the  fullnefs  of  felicity,  or  the  miferable 
forget  his  woe  ;  it  is  there  that  the  bofom  of  fenfibil- 
ity  experiences  its  moft  delicious  emotions ;  that  cre- 
ative genius  frees  itfelf  from  the  (hackles  of  fociety, 
and  darts  forth  the  warmeft  rays  of  imagination  ; 
all  the  ideas  of  our  minds,  every  inclination  of  our 
hearts,  lean  toward  this  defired  goal.  There  is 
indeed,"  (fays  a  fenfible  Englifliman)  "  fcarcely  any 
writer  who  has  not  celebrated  the  happlnefs  of  rural 
privacy,  and  delighted  himfelf  and  his  readers  with 
the  melody  of  birds,  the  whifper  of  groves,  and  the 
murmur  of  rivulets  ;  nor  any  man  eminent  for  ex- 
tent of  capacity,  or  greatnefs  of  exploits,  that  has, 
not  left  behind  him  fome  memorials  of  lonely  wif- 
dom  and  filent  dignity." 

The  part  of  the  work  to  which  I  am  mofi;  attacji- 


PREFACE. 


V 


t'[  Is  particulany  addreiTcd  to  the  attention  of  2'cut/i ; 
il  is  to  them  that  it  will  perfiaps  be  melt  ivftful,  and 
I  fondly  flatter  myfelf  that  to  their  minds  it  wiil  alfo 
afrord  the  highell  pleafure.  Young  mytelf  and  fen- 
iible  of  the  truly  beautiful,  1  \{ch  myfelf  led  on  by 
the  charms  of  a  work  which  elevated  my  mind, 
warmed  my  imagination,  and  touched  my  heart. 
May  it  produce  the  fame  effects  upon  my  young 
countrymen  !  May  it,  notwithilanding  the  weaknefs 
of  this  franllation,  infpire  them  with  the  fame  en- 
thufiafm  !  At  leaft  I  may  ventCire  to  exclaim  in  the 
words  of  M.  Ztrnmermarty  *'  Dear  and  virtuous  rcung 
man,  into  whofe  hands  thi:s  book  perchance  may  fall, 
receive  vi'ith  atFe£lion  the  good  which  it  contains, 
and  reject  all  that  is  cold  and  bad  ;  all  that  does  not 
touch  and  penetrate  the  heart  ;  but  if  you  thank  me 
for  the  performance,  if  you  blefs  me,  if  you  acknow- 
leclge  that  I  have  enlighte  led  your  mind,  cortedted 
your  manners,  and  tranquilized  your  heart,  I  fliall 
congratulate  myfelf  on  the  finceriry  of  my  intention?^ 
"and  think  my  labors  richly  rewarded.  If,  in  pur- 
fuing  it,  you  find  yourfelf  able  to  juilify  your  incli- 
nation for  a  wife  and  active  Solitude,  your  averfjon 
from  thofe  focieties  which  only  ferve  to  deftroy  time, 
and  your  repugnance  to  employ  vile  a-nd  fhamefui 
means  in'  the  acquifition  of  riches,  I  (hall  aik  no 
other  benediction  for  my  work." 

It  will  perhaps  appear  furprifing  that,  enter- 
taining fo  high  a  veneration  for  the  writings  of  3f» 
Zimmerman^  1  could  permit  myfelf  with  profane 
hand  to  retrench  the  greater  part  of  his  work  \  permit 
me  therefore  to  difclofe  the  reafons  wl^icli  inficien- 
ced  my  conduct.  Four  large  volumes  on  the  fub- 
je£tof  Solitude,  appeared  to  m.e  to.be  a  work  too 
arduous  for  the  generality  of  French  readers,  and 
particularly  for  French  bookfellers  to  undertake; 
for  even  this  fhort  Effay,  without  the  recommenda- 
tion of  ilf.  Z.  To«r»f«r,  could  not  have  acquired  the 
hontr  cfthePrefs,  BeCde,  though  the  whole  v/orlc 
bears  the  marks  of  geniiis,  and  the  two  firft  volumes 
which  principally  treat    of  monpjUc  Solitude^  contain 


Vi 


PREFACE. 


without  doubt  many  judicious  reflefbions,  yet  they 
are  perhaps  rathei  too  long  for  tn.-iny  rcad'^rs,  and 
are  even  capable  of  diipl^^afin^  fome,  \vho?'e  narrow 
prejudices  uignt  be  fliocked  by  tV-  iiucrai  fentii7ients 
of  the  author,  who  has  appealed  to  r.  decifion  of 
T^^ufon  aioiie  upon  the  lubjecl  of  ccrtniri  abuies  ren- 
dcreu  facred  by  the  motives  from  whicii  tiiey  pro- 
c^tdi-cl.  N-ctwlthfla^idlng  this,  however,  1  could 
not  dcti-vmine  to  retrench  the  work  before  I  had 
CO  fulie-i  feyeral  men  of  letters,  of  enlightened  un- 
deritaadtngs,  and  in  iiigh  favor  with  the  Public  : 
No,  I  never  would  have  ventured,  on  my  own  judg- 
ment, to  have  pruned  any  part  of  a  work  which  has 
acquired  the  univerlal  approbation  of  the  German 
Empire,  *  and  obtained  the  fufRages  of  an  Emprefs 
celebrated  for  the  fuperior  brilliancy  of  her  mind, 
and  who  has  fgnified  her  approbation  in  the  moit 

flattering    manner  On  the  26th  January,  1785,  a 

Courier,  difpatched  by  the  Ruffian  Envoy  at  Ham- 
burg, prefented  M.  Zimmerman  with  a  fmall  cafket  in 
the  name  of  her  Majefty  the  Emprefs  of  Ruffia. 
The  caficet  contained  a  Ring  enriched  with  dia- 
monds of  an  extraordinary  Cze  and  luftre,  and  a 
gold  medal,  bearing  on  one  fide  the  portrait  of  the 
Kmprefs,  and  on  the  other  the  date  of  the  happy  ref- 
ormation of  the  Ruffian  Empire.  This  prcfent  the 
Emprefs  accompanied  with  a  letter  written  in  her 
town  hand,  containing  thefe  remarkable  words  : 
"  To  M.  Zmmtrmany  Counfellor  of  State,  and  Phy- 
fician  to  his  Britannic  Majefty,  to  thank  him  for  the 
excellent  precepts  he  has  given  to  mankind  in  his 
Treatife  upon  Solitude." 


*  The  author  is  already  infcrted  ia-  the  coUeftion  of  Clafisc 
Authors  printed  at  Carlfrifhe^ 


THE 

LIFE  OF  ZIMMERMAN. 


JomN^  GEORGE  ZIMMERMAN,  the 
Author  of  the  f  olbwing  Trcatif^^  on  Solitudg,  which 
v/e  nowprefent  (o  the  public,  was  born  on  the  8th 
day  of  December,  1 728.  at  Brugg,  afmalltown  fit- 
uatedcn  the  borders  of  the  river  Aar,  near  thecaf- 
tles  of  Windich  and  Aitemberg,  in  the  Canton  of 
Berne,  about  fevenieen  miles  to  the  northweft  of 
the  city  ©f  Zurich,  in  Swifferland. 

His  lather,  Jshn  Zimmennan^  whofe  anceftcrs 
had,  for  a  feries  of  years,  defervedly  obtair>ed  the 
applaufe  and  admiration  of  their  fellow- citizens, 
by  their  p:^rronal  merits,  and  patriodc  exertions 
for  the  intercfts  of  the  Republic,  was  eminendy 
diftinguifhed  as  an  able  and  eloquent  member  of 
the  provincial  council.  Kis  mother  who  was 
equally  refpefted  and  beloved  for  her  gcod  fenfe, 
eafy  manners,  and  mod^ft  virtues,  v/as  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  celebrated  Pjc/;?,  v\^horefided  at  a  beau- 
tiful villa  near  Merges,  in  the  fame  canton,  and 
whofe  extraordinary  learni  :g  aad  great  abilities 
had  contributed  to  advance  him  to  a  feat  ia  the 
parUament  of  Paris. 

The  father  of  Zimmerman,  anxious  for  the 
future  eminence  of  his  fon  as  a  fchclar,  undertook 
the  arduous  f-afk  of  f  uperintending  his  education, 
and,  by  the  aiiiftaGce  of  the  ableft  preceptors  tha,t 


Viii  Life  of  Zinmerman, 

Gould  p^.'ocureJ,  inftrucled  him  \\  t^:e  rudi- 
n1en^s  of  all  th^  ufefal  ?.vA  oriaameatiil  fciences 
iintU  h'3  ha.i  a'.tidiied  the  ^>ge  of  iburtsen  year?, 
vhen  he  (Vnt  h'un  to  the  LbivcrfKy  of  Berne, 
wliere,  under  K}r Merger^  the  hiitor'an  and  pro- 
feir;r  of  rhetoric,  and  Jhvian^  the  celebrated 
Greek  prcfclT^r,  he  ]m:!i?d,  for  three  years,  Ph> 
l^l-^gy  i^id  rhe  I->e(les  Lettres,  wirh  unremifti.  g 
rdlkiaity  and  a!tenti:)n.  Scarcrly,  however,  had 
he  entf red  on  his  conrfe  of  iludy,  when  h's  indiii- 
try  w:^.s  ^  fv-r  a  v/  ile  in!  errup*:ed  by  the  fad  Jen 
de:it  1  of  his  afFzctiinite  father ;  a  misForrune 
which  bereaved  him  of  his  ablell  inftru(5lor, 
and  tore  his  heart  with  the  fever.^ft  rdHi<5lioa  ; 
but  as  time  foftened  his  filial  forrows,  he  renew- 
ed his  fcudies  with  iinceafmg  dif  gence  and  ?.rdor. 

The  various  and  frcqu:ntly  complicated  fyf- 
teiis  of  pdioibphy,  whi'^h  have  been  from  time 
to  time  introduced  into  the  worl  I,  excited  his  cu- 
riofity  an  t  ftimulated  his  indnflry  ;  and,  to  ren- 
der iiimfjlf  a  perfect  m;ift;r  of  this  extenfiv^ 
branch  of  lear.nng,  he  pLiced  himfclf  under,  the 
tu'tion  of  Brunncr^  one  of  the  mofl;  zealous  difci- 
ples  of  the  Baron  tie  Wolf ;  but  the  profeilor,  un- 
fortunately, was  only  ikilled  in  the  mecaphyficiil 
doftrm  ;s  of  his  great  mafc^T  ;  and,  inftead  of 
leading  the  mind  of  .^.is  pupil  into  tha  broad  and 
fi3w\ry  paths  of  real  ethics,  he  bewildereJ  him 
in  tlie  d  irk  and  thorny  mazeiJ  of  vain  and  ufelefs 
L-arning,  umfil  M,  Tribolet  and  J.  Stapfer^  two 
miniilers  of  the  g  fpel,  equally  renowned  for  ex- 
alted piety,  ar.lent  geniu?,  and  extenCva  knowl- 
edge, happily  extricated  him  from  this  dangerous 
labyrinth,  an  J  taught  him,  as  he  frequently  after- 
wards acknowle-i'ged  with  the  v/armeft  gratitude, 
tiie  frund  doclrines  of  true  ^philofophy.  Having 
pa  (Ted  nearly  live  years  at  the  univerfity,  he,  bs- 
gan  to  tiiink  of  applying  the  ftores  of  information 
iie  had  acquired  to  thepurpofes  of  a^lve  life  5  and 


Liftf  of  Zmmeman,  vx. 

with  a  viev/  of  confuldng  his  mother  refpe^ling 
the  profeilion  he  fhouVd  choofe,  he  vTited,  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  year  1 746,  his  Maternal  re- 
la:i(  r»  at  Merges,  where  (he  then  re fided  :  But, 
ali^s  !  the  kiad  afliftince  which  he  fon  Jly  hoped  to 
derive  upon  this  imp-rtant  fiihjccl,  from  ^  her  judg- 
ment and  cpinion,  death  had  rrndered  it  impolii- 
bh  f;.r  him  to  obtain.  Diltreffing,  however,  as 
tl^is  u::expected  event  was  at  fuch  a  jmKTcare,  it 
afforded  him  the  advantage  of  fcHowing  more 
freely  his  own  uabiaHed  inclination  y  a  circum- 
ftAnce  whieh  is  generally  conceived  to  contribute 
to  foccels  ;  and,  after  mendDning  the  fubjecl  cur- 
forily  to  a  f:-v/  re;atior.s,  he  ijnmediately  relolved 
to  rcHov/ t  e  practi  ce  or  phyii'c.  The  extra:  rdi- 
Lary  fame '-f  H-J^r,  who  kid  recently  been  prc- 
niottd  by  Kinr{  George  the  Second  to  a  profeiibf- 
ihip  in  the  Univrrfiiy  of  Go-tingen,  refounded  at 
this  tiT.e  thronghcut  Eur  .p=  :  and  Zmpnerman  c.^^ 
termined  to  profecute  his  fiiidies  in  phyfic  under 
the  au(pir.es  of  this  great  and  celebrated  m  -fter. 
He  was  admitted  into  the  Univcrlity  on  ti^e  12th 
of  September,  17475  and  obtained  his  degree  oa 
the  14th  of  Auguft,  1 75 1.  The  promifirig  geni- 
us of  the  young  pupil  induced  the  profefllr  to  re- 
ceive him  with  every  tokej  of  efteera.  Ke  or- 
dered an  apartment  to  be  provided  fl^r  him  under 
his  own  Yo^f ;  allifted  him  by  his  aovice  ;  luper- 
intended  his  f^ludies,  and  behaved  to  him  through- 
out his  furure  life  as  a  parent,  a  preceptor,  a  pat- 
ron, and  a  friend.  ZipMy  Calidni,  andftveral  ether 
eminent  men,  were  at  this  tiii^e  liudyi-g  under 
HaUtT,  1  he  ex j.mpb  cf  the  teacher  infpired  his. 
pupils  with,  the  fpirit  of  indr{lri.,:us  exeriion  ;  and 
by  their  indefitigable  induf^ry,  and  mutual  en- 
deavors to  profecute  -md  pe^ieLt  his  diicoveries, 
they  riot  only  forwarded  the  progrefs  of  medical 
fcience,  but  placed  the  philoibphy  of  the  huoiaa 
body  oa  a  more  fure  and  ua  almofl:  entirely  Eew 


bafis.  The  j:^enius  of  Zlmmmnan^  however,  ws^ 
too  powerful  and  expanfive  to  be  confined  exclu- 
fively  to  ^the  ftudy  of  medicice  :  the  fr?.me  and 
temper  of  the  hirnaa  mind,  natur^d  plvd  /ophy^  and 
par  iculirly  mathematics,  engaged  a  confiderable 
portion  of  his  attention,  and,  by  the  aflifliance  of 
AI.  S?2ner^  rewarded  liis  toils  with  a  large  fund 
cf  valuable  information.  Politics  alfo,  both  as 
they  relate  to  t^e  ir.unicipal  g  .  verninent  of  na- 
ti  ms,  and -^s' they  pnibrace 'thr't  more  iinportant 
fubjecl  which  has  cf  i?^re  years  been  ib  well  known 
in  Eurvop^  under  the  denomination  /?^2//^/cj-,  did 
not  efcape  his  inveftigation.  To  relax  iiis  mind' 
from  thcfe  feverer  itudie?,  he  cultivated  a  cjiiu. 
piste  knowledge  of  the  Engilfh  lunguage,  and  be- 
came fo  g-eat  A  prriT  ie:it  in  the  p:Iite  and  elegant 
literature  of  this '^-^  11  irv,  th.it  the  Briiiih  Pccts,par- 
ticuarly  ^hakcfpeaf  w,  I'o^e.-ryidi  Th?.?i//:jii  were  as  famd- 
I'.ir  10  h"m  as  his  favorite  authors  Horner  and  Virgil, 
Every  moirerit,  in  fh^rt,  cf  thi  four  year.^  he  p  ff- 
ed at  Got!! ^.a:;^!,  was  deployed  in  the  uleful  and 
ornamental  i:npr^.vem?nt  f^of  his  c.ipacious  mind, 
which  appears  to  have  been  fUmulated  by  alecr^t  pra- 
fage  of  his  future  gr-auiefs  :  il  r,  in  a  letter  v;rit- 
tea  during  this  period,  to  his  iriend  Dr.  Tijfot^  of 
Bine,  he  fays,  "  I  paf:.  every  hour  of  my  Ife 
here  like  a  man  who  is  detir mined  not  to  be  icr- 
g^oi  by  pofc  rity  ^;  and  ev:-n  fo  early  rs  the 
year  1 75 ^  he  produced  a  work  in  which  he  dif- 
covered  the  dav/nings  cf  that  ex'raoidieary  geni- 
us which  afterwards  iprcad  abroad  witn  ij  mu.:h 
ellulgence.*  But  the  arior  cf  his  mind  impeied 
upon  his  corporeal  frame  a  taO-:  teo  labrri  uis  to 
be  continually  ildbined  ;  ai:d  at  Inig'h  his  un- 
ceafmg  a/Ti  iuiri'^s,  and  cl  .fe  apoli:adcn,  affeded 
hl^  health,  and  pr educed  many  dl.irm.ing  iym.p'oms 
cf  tl:at  grievous  m-.la  iy  the  h-po^ondria. 


Vlfc  cf  Zhmiem.oiu  xl 

For  knowledge  is  as  food,  an^J  needs  no  len 
Her  temperance  over  aoDetite  to  knov/ 
Inmeat'ure  what  the  mind  may  well  contain  ; 
OpprelVes  e!fe  with  lurfoit,  and  loon  turns 
Wifdom  to  folly,  as  noiiifhment  to  wind." 

To  divert  his  min-ii,  and  ciffipate  the  banefu 
efiecis  of  this  diforder,  he  quitted  the  Univerfity. 
and  travelled  for  a  few  months  thr.:;ugh  Hcliand^ 
where  he  formed  an  acqnaiiitance  v/ith  tlie  cele- 
brated G.tubiiis  ;  and  afterwarJs  vUited  Pai-is, 
where  his  great  abilities,  zs,  a  fcholar  and  a  phy- 
Ccian,  foon  rendered  him  a  confpicuous  charader. 
The  amufements  of  Pari?,  hovA^:-ver,  and  perhaps 
the  envy  which  his  fup.^ricr  merits  raifed  againit 
him  in  the  minds  of  certain  profeiTional  competi- 
tors, m.ade  his  refidence  in  this  vid?ted  and  tu- 
multuous metropDlis  irkfome  ar.d  difagreeable  to 
him  ;  and  towards  the  clcfe  -  of  the  year  17:2  he 
returned  to  Berne,  where  he  enjoyed  the  dfoulle 
fatisfa£lion  of  acquiring  a  confitier^hie  degree  of 
praclice,  and  of  being  received  by  all  his  former 
friends  with  open  arms  and  unfeigned  coriiaiity. 
During  the  early  part  of  his  refidence  at  Berne,  he 
puhlifhed  many  excellent  ellays  on  various  iub- 
je61:s  in  the  Helvetic  Journal ;  particularly  a  w:rk 
on  the  talents  and  eru^lition  of  Haller,  This 
grate  ful  tribute  to  the  juft  merits  of  his  friend  and 
benefactor,  he  afterwards  enlarged  into  a  com- 
plete hiflory  of  his  life  and  writings,  as  a  fcholar, 
a  philcfopher,  a  phyfician,  and  a  man*  It  was 
pubiifhed  in  1755,  at  Zurich,  in  one  large  volume 
o6lavo,  and  received,  as  in  the  opinion  of  Tijfof  it 
highly  deferved,  with  uncommon  teHimonies  of 
applaufe. 

The  health  of  Halkr,  which  had  fufFered 
greatly  by  the  feverity  of  ftudy,  feemed  to  decline 
in  prbporrion  as  his  fame  increafed  ;  and,  obtain- 
ing pertniiru;a  to  leave  Gottiogen,  he  repaired  to 
B--'  rae,  t  vifit  hisfriends,andto  try,by  the  advice  and 
alliitduce  of  ZimnKman^  to  reftore,  it  pollibie,  his 


xii  Life  of  Zimmerman* 

decayed  conRituticn.  The  benefits'"  he  experien- 
ced in  a  fhort  time  were  lb  great,  that  he' deter- 
mined to  rtlinquiih  his  profeiTorfhip,  and  to  pafs 
the  remainder  of  his  days  amidft  the  carelTes  of  his 
fiiends,  and  the  comforts  of  his  family,  in  this  ci- 
ty He  accordingly  requeued  Zimmerman  to  fettle 
h's  atlairs  i\t  ihe  llniverfity,  and  to  accompany 
Lladaiue  Holler  and  her  hoii!'ebold  to  the  new  a- 
bode  which  had  been  previoufiv  provided  at  Berne 
for  their  rccepri on.  'I  his  einD?iry  he  performed 
w'th  a  plc'ifure  flov/ing  not  only  from  the  happ:- 
nefs  \it  ;inticip^ted  from  the  company  and  con- 
verfation  of  this  agreeable  and  ?friendly  family, 
bnt  from  a  cauf^  whicli  was  perhaps  ftill  m^re  inter- 
efting  to  his  heart.  In  the  family  of  Haller  lived  a 
3^oung  lady,  nearly  related  to  him,  whofe  maiden 
iiame  v^'isMeLy^  aod  whofe  hufoand,  M,  Siek^  had 
been  f  .metime  dead.  This  lady,  befides  a  (bund 
and  bi  rhly  cultivated  underfranding,  a  rc-fin.ed  tafte, 
a  quick  and  lively  fancy,  and  a  very  briliiiVnt  ima- 
gination^ pciTciied,  v/ha.t  is  p--7rhaps  fuperior  even 
to  thefe  endowments,  thofe  polite  and  elegant 
manners,  trat  amhbie  miidaefs  and  ferenity  of 
temper,  snd  that  winning  fr^ftnefs  of  voice,  which 
tender  ihefex  lb  irreiifial  ly  charmini^,  and  i^ifiire 
the  hap'piaefs  of  z  hulb?nd«  Zimmerman^  whofe 
devotion  to  ftu-Jy  had  not  exdnguifhed  the  tender 
fenfibilities  of  his  heicrt,  becauie  deeply  enamor- 
ed of  her  charms.  Be  offered  her  ins  hand  in 
marriage  ;  and,  after  palling  fome  time  in  the 
gentle  affiduities  of  h  ve,  they  were  united  at  the 
altar  in  the  bands  of  mutual  aiTedion.  During 
the  fhort  time  heaven  permit;  ed  hereto  bl  efs  his 
arms,  he  experienced  in  her  foi:dnf;fs  a  foft  ref- 
uge from  worldly  cares,  and  a  fecure  afyium  for 
his  afflictions. 

Soon  after  his  union  with  this  amiable  woman, 
the  fituation  of  Phyfician  to  the  town  of  Brugg 
became  vacant,  which  he  was  invited  by  the 


Life  cf  Zimnurman,  xili 

habitants  to  fill.  The  regular  falary  annexed  to  this 
appoiii:meat  was  extremely  fmall,  confidering  the 
extent  and  population  of  the  town ;  but  there  is 
fomeihing  particularly  fafcinaling  to  a  fentimental 
mind  in  the  place  of  early  infancy  ;  and  when 
Zimmerman  confidered  the  number  of  relations  and 
friends  by  whom  he  would  be  furr..  unded,  he  re- 
licquifhed  all  the  pleafures  and  advantages  he  en- 
joyed at  Berne,  and  returned  to  the  place  cf  his 
nativity,  wiih  a  view  to  fettle  himfelf  there  for 
life.  The  pra<^ice  which  he  immediacely  acquir- 
ed throughout  ihe  town  and  furrounding  country 
wsis,  like  that  of  his  friend  Dr.  Hotze^  of  Richter- 
fwyl,  of  whofe  amiable  character  and  delightful 
fitu?.tion  ha  has  drawn  fo  pleafing  a  pidure  in  the 
following  Ellay,  mere  extenlive  than  profitable. 
His  time,  however,  was  iiot  fo  entirely  engrofled 
by  the  duties  of  his  profelTion  as  to  prevent  hiin 
from  indulging  his  mind,  always  eager  to  acquire 
new  information,  in  the  purfuits  of  literature  ; 
and  hi  read  alinoft  everv  work  of  reputed  merit, 
whether  of  P::yfic,  Moral  Philofcphy,  Belles 
I.ettres,  Hiftcry,  Voyages,  or  even  novels  and 
Romances,  which  the  various  prelTes  of  Europe 
from  time  to  time  produced.  Tiie  novels  and  ro- 
mances of  Enghnd,  in  particular,  afforded  him 
^reat  dehght.  The  thoughts  and  opicions  which 
occurred  to  him  during  this  ccurfe  of  reading,  he 
frequenth^  committed  to  writing  in  the  form  cf 
effays,  and  inferted  many  of  them  in  a  periodical 
paper  called  the  Monitcr,  which  was  then  publifh- 
ed  by  the  Philological  Society  at  Zurich. 

in  the  conrfe  of  time,  Zinmierman  added  to 
the  character  of /;;//?w;2./ the  pleafr^g  rdation  of  fa-^ 
/^^r,  and  enjoyed  i a  the  birth  of  a  fon,  and  afer- 
w^ards  of  ?  daughter,  all  that  could  fill  the  bolcm 
of  the  fondeit  parent  with  joy— health,  ccmp  ten- 
cv,^  and  domefric  comfort.  The  company  cf  his 
wife's  mother  alfo,  a  woman  of  extraordiuary 


xiv  Ltfe  of  Zimmerman. 

underftandlng,  and  fingular  end:)wments,  nndwho 
formed  a  part  of  his  houfsholJ,  cjiUiiibuted  not  a 
little  to  iacreafe  his  felicity. 

But  perfect  felicity  is  not  the  lot  of  man  ; 
and  Zimmerman^  though  ful-rounJed  by  every  enjoy- 
ment which  is  ufur.lly  conceived  to  beit:.w  happi- 
nefs,  fufiered  a  f^fcret  une^fmefs  to  prey  up^n  his 
.mind.  Tne  amurements  which  Brugp;  aff  ^;rded 
were:  extremely  ccnfi.ied  ;  and  he  frequently  figh- 
ed  for  the  enj  ymeat  c.f  th:-?t  general  fjciety  in 
which  he  had  fou:id  fo  much  fuisfadfon  and  de- 
light at  Berne,  at  Gottingen,  and  at  Paris.  It  is 
true  that  he  had  mariiy  amiable  friends  at  Brugg, 
but  they  had  all  their  own  concerns  to  attend  to, 
and  had  little  time  to  d(.vote  to  the  company  of 
.any  iadividual.  A  man  of  letters  requires  a 
pu- lie  library  and  periodical  publica'ioas  lo  re- 
lort  to,  nev/  acquaintances  to  c onverle  with,  pro- 
felfional  afloeiates  to  v/hcm  he  can  communicate 
his  various  diicoveries  ;  all  of  which  Zimmerman 
^as  in  a  great  meafure  deprived  of  at  Brugg  ; 
and  the  want  of  thefe  refourc^s  made  fuch  a  deep 
impreffion  on  his  mind,  that  he  flii  into  a  ftate  of 
nervous  languor,  or  rathsr  into  a  peev'fh  dejec. 
tion  cf  fpirits,^  and,  neglecting  all  public  fcciety, 
jdevoted  himfelf  ahnoft  entirely  to  a  retired  a  d 
fedentary  life.  His  family  was  almofc  the  orly 
company  he  ronverfed  with  ;  ftudy  and  compofi- 
tion  the  fcle  amufem^^nt  of  his  Icifure  hour:  ;  and 
a  correfpondence  with  a  few  dillant  friends,  par- 
ticul'.-'.rly  Dr.  TiJJot^  Prcfeflcr  Bennett,  Dr.  Mncard^ 
Dr.  Lettfom  and  the  celebrated  Mr.  Dchw,  her 
Majefty's  librarian  at  "W'indfor,  his  orJy  rrlief 
agaiuft  the  melanchrly  and  vexation  that  opprelTed 
his  inii'.d.  There  is  an  art  in  being  h3ppy,  wiiich 
every  man,  who  enjoys  heabh,  hiiwe,  and  crm- 
petency,  may  in  all  places  attain,  omm  fohim  eji  pa^- 
iria  fortis  ;  but  every  perfcn  is  net  p-iffeffed  of  it  5 
and  there  are^  indeed^  uiea  of  very  e?:traordiLary 


Life  cf  Zinmeman,  xv 

talents,  and  great  abilities,  who  are  foiretlmes  To 
weak,  or  rather  fo  focUfh,  as  to  det'te  ir.  It  is 
erJy  to  im3gl.:e  the  happinefs  of  pr.riiciilar  condi- 
tions until  we  can  be  content  with  no  ether  ;  but 
there  is  no  condiuon  whatever  under  which  a 
certain  degree  of  happinefs  may  not  be  aaai^ieJ 
by  thcfe  who  are  i^cluied  to  be  happy. 

Tne  great  Halle r  conceived  it  to  be  of  as  much 
importance  to  happiaels  to  gain  the  eficem  z^  i'?.^ 
ddnuratioii  o{  m-^XiXd^d.  and  Zwvnennan  mi^ht  up- 
on this  fubjecl  have  f(  llowed,  with  infinite  ad- 
vantage, the  example  of  his  iUuflrious  friend,  who, 
by  condefcending  to  indulge  the  innocent  humor 
and  frailties  of  th'  fe  around  him,  rendered  h:m- 
1-Vif  bebved  by  all  who  knew  him;  and  by  thi5; 
ra.^ans,  vvhile  he  promoted  the  happiaefs  of  eth- 
ers, iriured  his  ouii.  Bat  a  n:aa  of  letters,'^ 
as  Dr.  johnfon  obferves,  fcr  the  mcil  pa-t 
fp-jnds  in  th^  priv.cies  of  ftudy  thu  fc^afon  of  Ufa 
in  which  the  maimers  are  to  be  fofcened  into  eale, 
and  poUfhed  into  elegance  ^  ar.d'  when  he  hr.s 
gained  knowledge  enough  to  be  refprdicd,  hrs 
neglecled  the  minuter  a6i:s  by  which  he  might 
have  pleafed."  Zhmncrman^  inds^ed,  frcqiien-tly 
blamed  i^imfelf  for  indulging  this  faturnine  difpoft- 
li  n,  and  was  far  from  ccnfidcring  retir„"m.ent  as  a 
duty  ;  but  he  feldom  had  courage  enough  to  re- 
nounce the  pleafures  it  beiiowed  on  hiai  ;  and  it 
was  by  rcile(51:ing  deeply  on  its  eff.ds,  that  he 
was  eiabled  ib  jiifllv  to  appreciate  its  advaf^.tages. 

The  love  of  Solitude,  which  this  dilpofiticri 
fo  frcngly  engendered  in  his  mind,  was  not,  how- 
ever, fuiiered  to  interrupt  in  any  degree  the  reg- 
ular difcharge  of  his  prcfeflional  duties  ;  all  ap- 
pearance of  deprcflion  vani filed  the  moment  he 
approached  the  bed  cf  firknefs  ;  and  he  feldom 
viiited  a  patient  v/hom  he  did  not  afterwards,  fiad 
a  friend. 

Uuderthefv  c'rcumixaiicesj  this  excdleiu  and 


Life  of  Zimmerman, 


able  man  pailcd  fourteen  years  of  an  uceafy  life  ; 
but  neither  his  incrcalmg  pradlice,  the  fuccefs  of 
his  literary  purfuits,  *  tne  exhortations  of  iiis 
friends,  nor  the  endeavors  of  his  family,  were  a- 
ble  to  remove  the  melancholy  and  difcontent  that 
preyed  continually  on  his  mind.  The  theatre  on 
which  he  aftid  leemed  too  confined  for  the  exer- 
cife  of  his  great  and  extraordin;;ry  tabnts  ;  and 
his  friends  conceivii:g  that  his  lEind  might  be  re- 
llored  to  its  former  tone,  by  changing  the  fcene, 
and  enlarging  the  fphere  of  a6^icn,  endeavored  to 
procure  him  promotion.  After  fome  fruitlefs  ef- 
forts to  pleafe  him,  he  was,  in  the  beginning  of 
April,  1/68,  appointed  by  the  intereft  of  Dr.  Tif- 
fot  and  Barm  Hockfictten^  to  the  poft  of  princip-.il 
Phyfician  to  the  King  of  Great-Britain,  at  Hano- 
ver \  and  he  departed  from  B  ugg,  to  take  pof- 
feifion  of  his  new  office  on  the  fourth  of  July  in 
the  fame  year.  But  the  hopes  with  wrich  his 
friends  had  fondly  flattered  ihemfelves  on  this 
fubje^l  were,  ?1  s  !  in  a  fhort  time,  forrowfully 
dilappointed.  The  carriage  in  which  he  and  his 
family  were  conveyed  to  their  new  refidence  wa& 


*■  The  following  is  a  corredl  lift  of  his  writings  in  the  order  in 
which  they  appear  to  have  been  publiHied. 

2.  Diir.rtatif<inauguralis  de  I rritabilitate,  4to.    Gottingen,  1^75I> 

2.  The  lifeof  Frofeflbr  Haller,8vo.  Zurich,  1755. 

3.  Thoughts  on  the  Esrthqu.'.ke  which  was  felt  on  the  9>th  0^ 

December,  1775.  in  Swiflerland,  4to.  175^^ 

4.  The  Subverfion  of  Liibon,  a  Poem,  4to,  1756. 

5.  Medications  on  Solituc>e,  8vo  1756. 

6.  Eflav  on  National  Pride,   8v-o.  Zurich,  1764. 

7.  Treatife  on  Experrente  in  Phyfic,  ^yo.  Zurich,  1764. 
g.  Treatife  on  the  Dyfenter'  ,  8i'o.    Zurich,  1767. 

9.  Efi-ay  on  Solitude,  4to,  1773.' 
10   Efiiiy  on  Lavater's  Phyfiognomy,  Hanover.  1778. 
XI.  EHays  conftft'ng  of  agreeable  and  inftruftive  Tales,  8vo.  I779. 
la.  Converfations  with  the  King  of  Prulfu. 

13,  Treatife  on  FrederiQk  the  Great,  1778. 

14,  Seleft  views  of  the  Life,  Reign,  and  Character  of  Frederick 

the  Great. 

JJ.  A  variety  of  Works  puhlifhed  in  the  Helvetic  Journal,  and  ia 

the  Journals  of  the  PhyfioUgical  So<;iety  aS  Zs^ich, 
j6.  A  work  on  Zoology, 


Life  of  Zimmerman,  ^xvu 

overturned  jnft  as  it  was  entering  the  g?.tes  of 
IlAiiover,  and  his  wife's  mother  received  a  c  riii- 
p(}und  fni6^:are  in  her  leg.  In  thred  diys  after 
his  arrival  death  depri^^ed  him  of  a  valuable  friend, 
oni  of  the  lords  of  the  Regency,  \yho  had  I'jng 
entertained  for  him  a  fincere  aiie£tlon  and  moit 
cordial  efteem.  His  collet ugue,  jealous  of  his  fi- 
perior  merit  and  increafi  \g  fame,  contrived  to  vex 
and  thwarc  him  in  the  difcharge  of  Ids  official 
duties.  A  local  diforder,  under  which  he  had 
labored  formally  years,  aid  wlrlchwas  frequent- 
ly attended  with  excruciatiEg  pain,,  grew  wcrfe  y 
and  to  add  Rill  more  to  his  misfortunes,  the  health 
of  Madame  Zimmerman^  which  alwavs  very  COnfld-. 
erably  i influence .1  his  own,  vifibly  declined.  Hap- 
pily, amidfl  this  variety  of  vexations,  his  extraor- 
diaary  merit  forced  him  into  very  great  and  extenlivd 
praftice,  which,  together  with  the  company  and 
coiTefpor.dence  he  regularly  maintained  with  his 
friends,- engroffed  his  time,  and  prevented  there- 
coile(^lion  of  his  c?.res  from  preying  on  his  mdnd^ 
Scarcely,  however,  had  he  recovered  his  health 
ard  fpirits,  when  he  was  again  phinged  into  the 
deepeii  affliflion  by  the  lofs  of  his  arrdable  wife, 
who,  after  many  years  of  lingering  fud'erance, 
and  pi)us  refignation,  expired  in  his  arms, 
on  the  23d  of  June,  1770.  The  deep  and  poig- 
nant forrow  he  felt  cn  this  misfortune,  increafed 
the  local  complaint  under  which  he  labored,  to  fo 
dreadful  a  degree,  that  he  was  obliged,  on  the  nth 
of  jime,  1 77 1,  to  repair  to  Berlin,,  and  place  him- 
felf  under  the  car^  of  M,  Michl^  a  celebrated  fur- 
geon,  for  t!:e  purpofe  of  undergoirg  an  operation, 
it  was  performed  with  great  ikill ;  and  he  receiv- 
ed fuch  perfeft  relief,  as  to  be  able  to  enjoy  fo- 
ciety  always  with  vivaci'y,  and  frequ.^ntly  with 
e.ife.  This  period,  indeed,  feems  to  have  been 
the  happiefl  of  his  life  :  he  had  the  icexpreffible 
gratification  of  fiading  himfelf  relieved  from  a 


XViii  Life  of  Zhmnemcm. 

lorg  and  cruel  complaint,  of  enjoying  the  charms? 
ot  a  moft  agreeable  private  fociety,  of  being  uni- 
vtrfally  received  with  the  greatefl  attention,  and 
ct  becoming  acquainted  with  many  eminent  lite- 
rary  charad^rs  in  Germany.     His  reception  on 
his  return  to  Hanover  was   equally  pleaung,  and 
he  fluttered  iiimielf  that  he  {hould  at  bft  enj  >y  a 
perman'^'nt  ft  ite  of  health.    But  he  feemed,  alas? 
defined  to  experience  a  conftant  viciflitude  of  plea- 
fure  and  of  pain  ;  for,  in  a  (hort  time  after  his 
return,  he  experienced  another  fource  of  inquiet- 
u  k  in  the  death  of  his  wife^s  mother,  who,  except 
kis  fon  and  daughter,  whofe  education  fhe  bad 
undertaken  to  fuperintend,  was  the  only  compan- 
ion of  his  dome:  1  ic  hours.  His  children  too,  thole 
common  coinforjs  to  a  parent    under  affli£i:ion, 
were  to  him  additional  caufes  of  the  keeneft  an- 
gu'fh  and  the  deepeft  diRreis.    His  daughter  lad, 
from  her  earlieft  infancy,  difcovered  fymptoms  cf 
coiifumptior,  fo  firong  and  inveterate  as  to  defy 
all  the  powers    of  medicine.    During  their  refi- 
dence  in  Swifii^rl^nd,  a  young  man,  "  as  hand- 
fome  in  his  perfon  as  he  was  amiable  in  the  quali- 
ties of  his  iriud,*'  had,  after  a  long  intimacy,  con- 
ceived a  violent  attachment  for  her  ;  he  was  "  the 
objed  of  her  firft,  of  her  only  aife^tior  ;  and  it 
was  mutually  agreed  by  their  parents  to  unite 
them,  in  pr  iper  time  in  the  bands  of  matrimony  ; 
but,  fo  n  alter  her  removal  to  Hanover,  it  feems 
tl-at,  for  fome  caufe  which  does  net  clearly  ap- 
pear, he  put  a  period  to  his  ex'ftence.  This 
dreadful  event  gave  a  violent  (heck  to  her  feeble 
conftltution,  arid  threw  her    into  a  languilhing 
complaint,  v/hich  at  length  ended  in  a  haemorr- 
hage of  the  lungs,  and  in  the  fummer  of  1781  de- 
Itroyed  her  life.   The  charaft^r  of  this  amiable 
girl,  and  the  f^elirgs  of  her  afflicted  father  on  this 
melan^hclly  event,  his  own  pen  has  very  afie^lng- 
y  defcribed  in  the  following  work* 


Life  cf  Zimmerman*  X.k 

But  th?  ftate  and  condirirn  of  h'S  fon  was 
flill  mere  f  'illrefipg  to  his  iecl'rgs  than  even  the 
deatli  of  his  beloved  daiighter.  I'his  unh'dppy 
youth,  who,  whiie  he  was  at  the  Univei Tity,  dif- 
covered  the  frielh  flincy  cud  -he  fcundtn:  I'Huer- 
ftanding,  eiihar  from  a  ii.al'gnant  and  irveterate 
fpeci^s  cf  fcr  phula^  with  which  he  had  been  peri- 
odic liiy  tortured  from  his  earlieft  infancy,  or  from 
too  cl-.fe  an  appl  cation  to  ftudy,  fell  very  early  in 
life,  mto  a  ftate  of  borlily  infirmity  and  mental  lan- 
guor, which  terminated,  in  the  month  of  December, 
1777,  in  a  total  derargement  of  his  faculties  ; 
and  he  has  now  continued,  in  fpite  of  every  en- 
deavor to  reftore  him,  a  perfect  idiot  for  more 
than  twenty  years. 

The  domeftic  comforts  of  Zimmerman  were 
now  almoit  entirely  deifroyed  :  be  had   no  cne, 
except  Madame  de  Bering^  the   fifter  of  M,  Strule^ 
Secretary  of  State,  with  whom  he  could  "  hold 
communion  fweet  and  large      and  fhe,  to  com- 
plete his  mif.-ry,  was  obliged  foon  afterwards  to 
leave  Hanover,  and  attend  her  hufband  to  a  dif- 
tant  part  of  Germany,  where  he  had  lately  been 
appointed  to  a  nev/  employment.    The  unhrppy 
and   comfcrtlefs   fituation    of  Zimmerman 
whom  fhe  had  lived    on  terms  of  the  pm-effc 
frienjfhip  during  his  refidence  at  Hanover,  made 
a  deep  imp-eiGon  on  her  mind,  and  called  forth  all 
thetendereft  feelings  of  her  heart.    Wiiely  con- 
ceiving that  the  cnly  chance  of  preventing  him 
ft-om  fallin,^  a  vidim  to  his  afflidlions,  was  by 
UQiiinghim  once  more  in  matrimony  wi  h  fcm.e  ob- 
jeft  worthy  of  his  choice,  fhe  carefully  examined 
the  character  and  dilpciition  of  her  female  friends, 
and  at  length  fixed  upon  the  daughter  cf  AL  Ber- 
ger^  the  King's  Phyfician  at  Limenbcurg^  and  niece 
to  Barm  de  Berger^  as  a  perfon  in  every  refpecft 
qualified  to  make  him  happy.    Madame  de  Bering 
managed  the  introdudioa  with  great  delicacy  and 


XX 


L.ife  of  Zimmennan, 


addrels ;  ar.d  had  the  pleafnre  to  ol)fc-rve,  fooii 
afterwards,  that  the  fentimer.ts  cf  the  parties  cor- 
relponded  p  rfVjtly  with  her  own.  A  friendlhip, 
founded  on  reciprocity  of  iafle  and  diip-fition, 
ripened  very  quickly  into  the  tendereft  arft  ^flicn  ; 
and  they  were  u.^ited  to  each  ether  in  Hiarriage 
about  the  beginnlrig  of  Of^ober^  1782.  Zimmer^ 
man  was  nearly  thirty  years  older  tl  au  his  bride  : 
but  genius  and  good  fenfe  are  always  young ;  and 
the  iiarl'irity  uf  their  characters  obli  erated'  all 
recollection  of  difparity  of  age.  She  was  well  ac- 
qaaiited  with  the  Englifa  language  ;  fpoke  Ital- 
ian wit  i  great  elega::ce  and  c^rrectaeis  ;  revifed 
bis  compoiitions  witii  critical  tafte  and  found  judg- 
ment ;  and  continued  to  the  1  >ft  moment  of  ber 
life  his  tutelar  deit}^,  a  plenfmg  companion  of  his 
profperity,-and  his  fupp  jrt  and  confolation  in  ad- 

"  vrrfity.  He  w  nt  with  her  iuto  company,  had 
freque  .tly  parties  at  his  own  hoiu^e,  and  enjoyed 
an  agreeable  fociety,  which  reftcred  him  occafion- 
ally  to  his  former  gaiety  and  good  humor. 

It        at  this  period  that  he  eompofed  his 
great  and  favcri'e  wcrk  on  Solitude,  thirty  years 

'  cifter  the  publication  of  his  fird  efTay  on  the  lubjeCi:. 
it  c onfifls  of  four  volumes  in  qusrto  ;  the  two  firli 
of  wbich  were  pubrfhedin  17S4  ;  and  the  remaining 
volumes  in  1 786.  "  A  work,'*  lays  Tifoti  "  Vv^hich 
v/:ll  always  be  read  with  as  much  profi'  as  pleafure, 
as  it  contains  the  mofl  fublime  conceptions,  the 
great'  ft  fag^acity  cf  obfervation,  an  extreme  propri- 
ety of  applicaiioD,  much  ability  in  the  ciioice  of 
examples,  and.  (v,^hat  I  cannot  commend  too  high- 
ly,  becauie  1  can  fay  nothing  that  does  him  fo  much 
honor,  nor  give  him  any  praife  that  would  be  more 
gratifying  to  his  ov/n  heart)  a  conftant  anxiety  for 
the  intereAS  of  Religion,  with  the  facred  and  fclemn 
truths  of  v/hich  his  mind  was  molt  devoutly  impref- 
fed.  But  the  friecdthip  I  entertained  for  this  ex- 
c<;ilent  man  dees  not  fo  far  blind  me  as  to  prevent 


Life  of  Zimmerman, 


me  from  obferving,  that  he  has  not  always  held  the 
balance  beuveea  the  advant^^g-s  of  fociety  and 
thofe  cf  Solitude  with  a  fteaciy  and  impartial  hand. 
More  irchned  himfelf  to  lead  a  life  of  Solitude,  than 
to  enjoy  theufual  pleafures  of  fociety,  his  difpcfi- 
tion  viiibly  predomi'.ates  in  many  parrs  of  the 
work,  and  frequently  exhibits  the  feeble  condition 
cf  his  nerves,  and  the  hypochondriacal  peevifhnefs 
of  h^s  terr.per.  Tr.ere  wrs,  however,  a  ftrikiiig  dif- 
ference between  his  m.inners  and  his  writings.  He 
was  ah;;^ays,  in  converlativ^n,  gentle,  polite,  and 
complaifant  ;  incapable  of  ever  faying  an  offenfive 
w:rd  ;  hu-  the  moment  the  pen  was  in  his  hand, 
he  left  his  urbrnity,  and  became  fatiricaL  In  pub- 
r.c,  the  rules  of  gcod  breeding,  and  the  gentlenefs 
of  his  chara(S.-r,  retrained  him  ;  bui:  v/hen  retTed 
to  his  deflc,  his  natural  energy,  his  love  of  virtue, 
and  hig  hatred  of  whatever  was  ridiculcu^^  carried 
him  awav,  ard  he  v/as  no  longer  mi^fter  of  himfelf. 
The  mildneis  of  his  temper  was  conitant  and  undif- 
turbed  in  fociety,  but  he  feized  the  chara6teriftics 
of  mankind  with  the  greateft  es  fe  and  prompt"' tude  ; 
their  fellies,  their  fciL'les,  and  their  incongruities, 
flruck  him  at  firft  fight ;  and  when  he  retired  to  ids 
clofet,  he  prdnted  them  in  the  livelieft  colors*" 

During  his  rc  fidence  at  Berlin,  in  1 771,  he  had 
been  invited  to  Potzdam  by  the  king  of  Pruffia, 
and  had  frequent  con'ercno's  v/ith  h's  Majefiy  re- 
fpe<^lng  the  ftate  rf  his  health.  The  part'culars  of 
thefe  conferences  he  ccmmurdcated  by  letter  to  jv 
friend,  who,  anxious  to  prom.ulgate  the  h:nor 
Zimmsnnaii  had  r^'ceived,  fhewed  it  very  injudiciouf- 
ly  to  feveral  pfrlons,  from  w  icfe  communications, 
it  was,  without  the  author *s  crnfent  at  lergth  pub, 
lilhed;  butin  fo  falfe  and  mut'Lned  a  ft  te,  that 
he  was  induced  to  print  a  genuine  copy  cf  it  in  his 
own  name.  The  king,  while  he  was  reviewing  hia 
{ro:ps  in  Silefia  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  i7'8^5, 
caii^ht  a  fevere  cold,  wliich  fettied  ou  his  lungs,  aud 


xxli  I.i/e  of  i'm^mmdfi, 

ia  the  courfe  cF  nine  mont:'-  s  brought  on  fj^mptoms 
of  an  approaching  dn^pry.-  Zhmierman^hy  two  very 
flittering  letters  of  the  6':h  ard  \6ih  of  June,  1 7B6, 
U'sis  foHcited  by  his  Mi'jefty  to  attend  him,  and  he 
arr'ved  at  Potzdam  ca  the  23d  cf  the  fame  racBth  ; 
but  he  imnredi  '.t  ly  difovered  that  his  royal  patient 
had  lit^^le  hopes  of  recovery  ;  and,  after  trying  the 
eiTecl:  of  fuch  rnedidnes  as  he  thoug':L  moft  Ukely 
to  aif  jrd  relief,  he  returned  to  Hanov  r  on  the  nth 
of  July  foliowing,*  wntra  he  publilhc  d  a  very  par- 
ticular and  iatere:iing  account  of  hi<?  j  urn-'y,  and 
of  the  various  COD  vcrfition&  he  had  had  with  the 
King.  He  had^  indeed,  from  Irs  youth,  attended 
to  tiie  hifuory  cf  the  K'r.g  of  Pi  ullra  with  that  inter- 
tfl  v/ith  w.  ich  the  man  ot'  genius  folbws  the  careei: 
of  a  grjat  characl:j:r,  and  entertained  an  high  admi* 
i'.-tion  of  the  talent?,  and  a  fmn  atruchment  to  the 
perfo.i,  of  this  hero.  But;  it  was  not  Frederick  alone 
■^hodifcovered  his  abilities.  When,  in  the  yeaf 
1788,  the  melancholy  ftate  of  the  King  of  England's 
health  alarmed  the  afFedlion  of  his  fubje^ls,  and 
produc:^d  an  anxiety  throughout  Europe  for  his  re- 
covery, the  g:vernmeat  of  liancver  dhpatched  Zm** 
tTtennan  to  Holla  nd,  that  he  migr.t  be  nearer  Lon- 
don in  cafe  his  ]^pre  fence  There  became  necefTary  ; 
and  he  continued  at  the  Hrgue  until  all  darg/r  was 
over.  The  invitation  of  the  diicernirg  Frederick, 
and  the  lek<51ion  cf  the  lianoverian  Mini'der,  who 
had,  for  twenty  years  witnelTcd  his  abilirif  s,  gave 
new  and  flattering  teftimcnies  of  his  medic?l  i1<ill, 
and  ailorded  hiui  that  highly  pleafng  grati^cation 
which  acccip.p-inies  a  cr.nicioufnefs  of  the  pu-^lic  ef- 
teem.  Bel  .ved  by  his  particular  friends,  enj  oying 
the  coi  fi  ierce  of  three  molt  potent  fovereigns,  pof- 
f-ihng  the  moil  voluutary  ppprobiticn  of  tne  pub- 
lic, an  ample  fcr;une,  and  all  die  comforts  cf  domef- 

The  King  only  furvived  the  departure  of  his  i^hyficlan  five  weeis  } 
H5  died  gn  th?  Hch  Qt  Au^ufl,  i/S^J* 


Life  (f  Zimmermdn,  Ttxm 

tic  life,  his  fi  uation  fesmed  to  aubrd  h'm  once 
morj  the  profpeci  of  rcturranc;  happinefs.  But  we 
niuft  not  eftiraate  the  profpefts  of  felicity  by  the 
complexion  of  exterior  circiinifla::cTS.  Dif^aft  fr.i- 
•^juently  racked  his  body  with  excruciating  anguifh  ; 
and  his  mind,  enen^atcd,  p:rh^p-:,  by  the  blandish* 
nien^s  cf  proi'perity,  occificnally  recoiled  upon  it- 
felf,  and  plunged  hi:n  iuto  l  uiguorand  defpo.idency. 
A  new  ieries  of  vexatioas  alfo  pr  xeeding  from  two 
different  cauff^s,  fprung  up  at  this  peri':^d,  and  con- 
tinued topoifon  all  the  fources  of  his  happinefs  dur- 
ing the  rem'Ainder  cf  his  life. 

Zimmerman  feems  to  have  either  fovg:yt  or  Jef- 
pifed  the  darger  w>/.6r  always  accoir.p:ni£S  the  taOc 
ofwrinng  the  h'H  .ry  of  mo'aarc'^s  durutT  the  lives 
of  the'r  cotempor^ries  :  but  he  adnnired  the  c'.arac- 
ter  of  the  King  of  Pruffia  with  en'.hufiaflic  ardor ; 
and  even  fo  far  from  viewing  it  in  the  1-ght  in  which 
it  w?.s  placed  by  a  work  written  by  Miraheau^  and 
publidied  in  1788,  enti'.led  "  The  Prufliao  M;n::r- 
chy,''  that  he  boldly  entered  the  lifts  in  favor  of  his 
royal  friend,  and  publiflied  fi  fta  pamphlet,  entitled 
A  defence  of  Frederick  the  G-reri,  agairft  the 
Count  de  Mirabeau  and  riierwards,  in  the  year 
J  790,  a  work  in  three  volumes  cflavo,  entitled 
"  Sclea:  Views  of  the  L^fe,  Char:c^:T,  a-d  R  ira 
of  Frederick  tb^  Great,  King  of  Prufha."  Thife 
works,  befides  many  frrong  p:l.tl^ai  obfrrvaticn? 
and  anecdotes  cf  psrticub.r  characbrs,  contained 
many  very  fevere  r.nimadverfi3ns  on  the  irrelig'on 
which  prevailed  at  Berlin,  and  drev/  down  on  the 
head  of  their  author  all  th  ?  r.'.nccr  cf  private  anim  ^  f- 
ity  and  parly  fpirit.  Truth,  h.ivv^ver,  was  in  g  n- 
eral  on  his  firle  ;  and  he  oug'it  to  have  treated  t>.e 
malevolent  cenfures  and  ilf.beral  attacks  of  his  cppc* 
nsnts  ^vith  the  cold  and  filent  contempt  they  defer. 
ved  ;  but  men  of  irritable  nen^es  ave  apt  to  be  deep- 
ly affeifted  by  trifl'rs,  and  the  virulence  wi-'h  uhich 
he  was  purfued  m  this  cccafivn  gaye  him  much 
Vvx;;tion» 


X^v  Life  cf  Zimmerman* 

Thefecond  caufe  of  his  chagrin,  at  this  period, 
arofe  from  Lis  ftr  ng  attachment  to  the  caufe  of  re- 
ligion, the  intertfts  of  huma;.  nature,  ;-Dd  ihe  dan- 
ger to  v/hi:h  ha  faw  all  fecial  order  was  imminently 
expofed.  It  was  the  anxiety  and  moriitication  he 
experienced  upon  'his  cccafion  th?it  gave  the  fjtal 
bl.m^  to  his  declining  healt'-',  and  at  length  deprived 
him  prematurely  of  his  exigence  ;  for  eve*-y  thing 
that  related  to  tb.e  hapuinefs  not  ni  :rel/  of  uidiv}:!u- 
fcls,  but  of  m::^nkind  in  general,  Wt.s  extrv^uivly  dear 
to  him ;  and  he  might  well  excliin?, 

Homo  fum,  nihil  humani  amealicnam  puto* 

Mcriilty  and  politics,  or  thofe  principlrs  on 
which- ^e  haopint  fs  of 'private  hfe  and  the  fecurity  cf 
puM'c  orior  lb  efkntially  dep.^nd,  had  ever  been 
iubjefts  cf  his  a  tention.  1  he  political  pr  ?dii6llons 
of  Mcntcfquicu  and  Roiipau,  c  fpeclally  thofe  two  cel- 
ebrated works,  The  Spirit  of  Laws ^  and  The  Social 
Contra^  Y.Q,h.2.d.  deeply  liudied  ;  an:i  his  writings 
in  g^ner :1,  but  mrr-e  prrticuliriy  his  works  on  Na^ 
iio)i:i!  Fride  and  Soliticde^  demonilrate  his  ccnftaat  anx- 
iety f  r  t'  e  public  welfare.  The  celebrity  of  Rof 
ferjj^  and  the  pr-vj;  i  s,;  propenfity  to  foil  )w  his  po- 
lilical  tcne^Sy  cau fed  him  to  rei^ret  the  many  t-rro- 
neDr.s  p.  firiois  conta  .aed  in  The  Social  Cmira^,  and 
induced  him  to  r:fute  ^lofe  p  iris  of  it  in  which  the 
author  endeavors  'o  f.ip  ihe  foundation  of  all  reli- 
gious princiy:^.es.  In  compofing  his  EJfay  m  SoUtudc^ 
he  v/?s  led  to  inqii're  into  'hrrife,  the  progrels,  and 
theprinr'plcs,  of  LiUtere  r;l!p;ious  feels,  and  to  ef. 
timp.te  their  :^^,oab]einiIiience  and  e&fts  upon  gov- 
ernmcnlo  ;  and  ha  became  iirmly  p^rluadeJ,  to 
ufe  the  expreffion  cf  Tiffht^  that  they  are  "  the 
cuckow^s  eggs,  which  can  never  be  permitted  to  be 
hatched  witi-out  endangering  the  public  tranquili- 
ty.*' A  new  and  ex  r.icrdinary  fociety  had  fprung 
tip  under  hi^  own  oblerv^ition,  v/?  ica  engaged  his 
•^'hvle  attention/and  which  well  aicrited  that  of  the 


Life  cf  Zimmerman, 


XX7 


Civilized  wcrld,  fiiice  it  is  now  clear  that  the  gi-eat 
object  of  it  was  no  lefs  than  to  abohih  all  rdigion, 
to  I'ubvert  ibcial  order,  and  to  deftroy  thereby  the 
happ'uefs  of  mankind.  This  confederacy,  which 
was  denominated  "  The  Secret  Society  cfthc  Illumina' 
ted**  had  become  extremely  formidable  i  a  Germa- 
ny ;  and  Zimmerman^  well  acquainted  with  the  per- 
nicious tendency  of  its  principles,  earneftly  endeav- 
ored to  oppofe  them,  by  interefxing  thofe  whom  it 
mcftly  concerned  to  prevent  their  effefts.  The  pre- 
tence cf  its  members  was  the  happinefs  of  the  people ; 
and,  fuppofmg  this  happiaefs  to  be  iocompaiible 
with  every  fpsciescf  religion  and  civil  eftablifhment 
at  preftint  exilling,  they  cried  with  one  voice,  "  Let 
Its  defiroy  them  all^  and  raze  their  very  found.ations,^^ 
It  inclu.^ed,  in  ihorr,  am.ong  its  dark  defigns,  the 
whole  cf  the  do61riiie  which  the  Jacobins  of  Paris 
have  fince  fo  fatally  put  in  praftice  ;  and  it  has 
been  proved,  by  the  moft  irrefragable  documents,* 
that  they  not  only  m.aintained  an  intimate  corref- 
poudence  together  long  before  the  revolution,  but 
that  the  deftruclion  of  the  Chriftian  religiDn,  and 
ths  fubverfion  of  every  throne,  and  of  all  govern- 
ments, was,  ever  liace  the  year  1776,  the  fecretaim 
and  fcle  obj  of  thtfe  criers.  They  adopted,  ia 
fh:^rt,th?a  execrable  obfen^ationknov/niand  celebra- 
ted in  France,  and  generally  attributed  to  Diderot  : 
"  JMankind  will  never  be  perfe(fdy  happy  and  free, 
until  the  lifl:  kings  fliall  be  ftrangled  with  the  bow- 
els cf  the  bft  of  priefts."  The  fociety  of  i he  Ilhom- 
?2ated  w.i5  compofed  ef  five  diiticdl:  claiTes  and  mem- 
ber?, who  were  fcunded,  prepared,  and  raifed  ftep 
by  fcp,  as  they  difcovered  them.felves  worthy  to  be 
trufled  with  its  mifchievous  myfteries.  This  mode 
of  iQtrodu(^i.-^n,  fo  confonput  to  the  nature  of  the 
affeinbly,  was  firft  faggtfled,  in  the  year  17S2,  by 

*  See  Memoirs  for  the  Plenipotentiaries  afjenrsbled  at  Soi/Tons,  m 
which  is  demon  it  rated  how  prejudicial  the  Sociecy  ot  Jelaits  is  to 
<hu»ch  and  ftate, 

(HI) 


Lifii  of  Zimmerman  p 


Baron  dc  Kiiigge  ;  and  by  the  infmuatlng  manners 
and  captivatng  linguage  which  the  principal  man- 
agers well  knew  how  to  ufe,  the  number  of  affiHa- 
ted  members  increafed  from  day  to  day.  Many 
honefl  men  had  grieved  in  filence,  on  perceiving  the 
evils  which  were  likely  to  refult  from  the  baleful 
dcclriaesprcp  'gated  with  eq-nal  art  and  indiiftry,  by 
this  dangerous  conibinaticn  :  but  Zimmennan  vj?s 
jthe  firfl  who  had  the  courage  to  unveil  the  danger- 
ous princ'ples  of  thefe  new  philofophers,  and  to  ex- 
hibit to  the  e^^es  of  the  German  Frinces  the  rilk 
they  ran  innegk  clir.g  to  oppofe  the  prcgrefs  of  fo 
formidable  a  league.  He  convinced  many  t f  them, 
and  pariicularly  the  Emperor  Leopold  the  Sccoml,  that 
the  views  of  thefe  illuminated  conipirators  were  the 
deflruftlon  of  Chrilrknity,  and  the  fubverfion  of 
all  regular  government ;  and  thn.t  many  ccurtiers, 
minifters,  judges.,  officers  in  the  army,  prelaies  of 
the  Roman  church,  an  immenfe  number  of  inferi- 
or ecclefiaftics,  and  even  fome  of  the  f.  verei[<n  prin- 
ces of  Germany,  v/ere  not  only  tainted  by  the  new 
do6):rines,  but  active  m.embrrs  of  the  f  c'ety.  Thefe 
exertions,  while  they  contributed  to  leiTen  the  dan- 
ger which  threatened  his  adopted  country,  greatly 
impaired  his  health.  Deeply  impreiled,  however, 
with  the  imp  :Ttance  cf  his  caufe,  he  profecuted  his 
labors  with  unremitiing  attention,  and  d^r voted  the 
hours  of  repofe,  both  f  aily  in  the  morning,  and 
late  in  the  evening,  to  this  arduous  tafK.  He  feemiS, 
indeed,  to  have  been  urged  by  fomeihlng  like  per- 
fonal  con(ideratk)n  ;  for,  ii  letter  which  he  v. role 
tg  his  friend  Dr.  Ti/Jit^  rn  the  4th  cf  October,  1794, 
he  fays,  "  1  may  yet,  befrre  tiie  year  expires,  be- 
come a  poor  diftrafTr.d  eniigrjint,  forced  to  leave  his 
houfe  with  the  dear  partner  of  his  cares,  without 
knowing  where  to  hide  his  hea  l,  or  find  a  b^d  on 
V'hich  to  die  acd  certainly  theinvalion  of  the  A 
electorate,  the  facking  of  Ilanover,  ard  tlie  necelu-  * 
ty  of  abandottisg  if,  were  at  that  tiring  much  to  be 


i 


Life  of  Zimmerman*  x^vii- 

feared  ;  for  negociation  alone  faved  a  country 
which  irs  arms  were  incapable  of  defending.  Thtfe 
fentimerits  announce  the  deep  depreflion  of  his" 
mind,  and  evince  the  hfs  of  that  firm  tone  and  vig- 
6rous  exertion  which  w?.s  neceffar'y  to  fupport  his- 
-  lad  endeavors  to  repel  the  inopending  calamity. 
His  rpirits,  indeed,  had  received  a  ihcck  from  which 
they  v/eta  unable  to  recover,  even  Vv^hen  the  dan- 
ger was  removed.  In  the  month  of  November^ 
1794,  he  was  obl'ged  to  have  recoiirfe  to  ftrong 
opiates  to  procure  even  a  fhort  repofe  ;  h's  appetite 
decreafed  ;  his  flre:igth  failed  hia\  ;  and  he  became 
foweak  and  emaciated,  that,  in  January,  T795, 
when  he  was  induced  to  viut  a  few  particubr  pa- 
tients in  his  carriage,  it  was  painful  to  him  to  write 
a  prefcrlption,  and  he  frequently  fa'nted  w!iie  af- 
cendiEg  to  the  room.  Thefe  fymptoms  were  fol- 
lowed by  adizzinefs  in  his  head,  which  obligid 
him  to  relinquiih  all  bufmcfs.  At  lengih  the  axis  cf 
his  brain  gave  way,  and  reduced  him  to  fa:h  a  Ifate 
of  mental  imbecliiy,  that  he  was  haunted  coctin- 
mlly  by  an  idea  that  the  enemy  wa^  plundering  hii 
houle,  and  that  he  and  his  family  were  reduced  to 
a  ftate  of  mifery  and  want.  His  medical  friend?, 
particularly  Dr.  Wkhman^  by  Vv'hom  lie  Vv-as  con- 
ftantly  attended,  contributed  their  advice  and  af- 
fjftance  to  reftore  him  to  health  ;  and  conceiving 
that  a  journey,  and  change  of  air  v/ere  the  l?e5 
remedies  that  could  be  apphed,  they  fent  him  to  Eu- 
tin,  in  the  Duchy  of  HcKtein,  where  he  continued 
three  months,  and,  about  the  month  cf  June,  179^, 
returned  to  Hanover  greatly  recovered.  But  tiie 
fatal  dart  had  infixed  itfelf  too  deeply  to  be  entire- 
ly removed  ;  he  foon  afer wards  relapfed  into  his 
former  imbeciUty,  and  barely  exified  in  lingering 
fuiFerance  for  many  months,  refufing  to  take  any 
medicines,  and  fcarcely  any  food  ;  continually  har- 
raffed  and  diftrefled  by  the  cruel  illufion  cf  povertv, 
which  again  haunted  his  imagination.    At  certain 


xxvili  Life  Cff  Zmmemmt 

intervals  his  mind  feemed  to  recover  ciily  for  the 
parpofe  of  rendering;  him  fenlibie  of  his  approach- 
Tng  difToliUion  ;  for  he  frequently  faid  to  his  phyfi- 
cians,  "  My  death  I  perceive  will  be  flow  and  pain- 
ful and,  about  fourteen  hours  before  he  died,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Leave  me  to  myfelf ;  I  sm  dying." 
At  length  his  emaciated  body  and  exhaufled  mind 
funk  beneath  the  burden  of  mortality,  and  he  ex- 
pired without  a  groan,  cn  the  7th  of  O  Aober,  1 795. 


THE 


Injiuence  of  Solitude. 


CHAP.  I. 

Introduclion, 

Jn  this  nnquiet  and  tumultuous  fcene  of 
rfe,  lurrounded  by  the  reftraints  of  ceremony,  the 
urgencies  of  bufmefs,  the  (hnckles  of  fociety,  and 
in  the  evening  of  my  days,  I  feel  no  delight  in 
tracing  back  the  images  of  pleaf'ure  that  pals  fa 
tranfieally  away :  my  foul  dwells  with  higher  fat- 
isfaclion  on  the  memory  of  thofe  happy  days  ot 
my  youth,  when  Solitude  was  my  fole  amufe- 
merit ;  when  I  knew  no  place  more  agreeable 
,  than  the  fequeftered  cloifterand  the  filent  cell,  the 
•  lonely  mountaia  and  the  fablimely  awful  grove  ; 
nor  any  pleafures  more  lively  than  thofe  I  experi* 
enced  in  converfmg  with  the  dead. 

I  love  to  recal  to  my  mind  the  cool  and  filent 
fcenes  of  Solitude ;  to  oppofe  them  to  the  heat 
and  buftle  of  the  world  ;  to  meditate  on  thcf^ 
advantages  which  the  great  and  good  of  every 
age  have  acknowledged  they  polTefs,  though  per- 
haps too  feldom  experienced  ;  to  reHecl  cn  the 
powerful  con folar ions  they  afford  v/hea  grief  cor- 
rodes the  mind,  when  difeafe  affl'-tts  ths^  bodyj, 
(UI  2) 


30  The  Influence  of  SoBude^ 

whea  the  number  of  cur  years  bends  ns  to  the 
j?:rou.ad  ^  to  contemplate,  in'  fhort  the  benign  in- 
Husnceof  Solitude  upon  all  the  troubles  of  the  heart. 

Sclitude  is  that  fiate  in  vi'hich  the  foul  freely 
refigns  itlelf  to  its  own  refie<5licns.  The  fage, 
therefore  who  banifhes  from  his  n:ind  all  recoL  ! 
iciSlioa  of  the  obje£ls  by  which  he  is  furrounded, 
and  retires  within  himfelf,  is  not  lefs  fclHary  than 
he  who  forfakes  fcciety,  and  devotes  himfelf  en- 
tirely to  the  calm  enjoyments  of  a  lonely  hfe. 

In  retirement  every  man  furrenders  himfelf, 
without  reil:raint  or  limitation,  to  the  guidance  of 
his  own  ideas,  and  implicitly  adopts  the  fenti- 
ments  which  his  tafle,  temper,  inclination,  and 
genius  infpire. 

Oblerve  the  fliepherds  of  thcfe  extenfive  def- 
arts  :  one  chaunts  the  beauty  which  captivates 
the  foul ;  another  moulds  the'  clay  into  a  ruPtic 
vafe  ;  the  furrounding  charms  of  nature  form  the 
fole  delight  and  admiration  of  a  third  j  while  a 
fourth  inveftigates  the  prectpts  cf  the  moral  law, 
'  or  contemplates  the  iublime  truths  of  our  holy  re- 
ligion. If  they  were  refpefdvely  to  meet  a  lovely 
ihepherdefs  beneath  the  (hades  of  their  retire- 
ment, feared  on  the  borders  of  fome  gently  flow- 
ing fiTeam,  the  heart  of  each  might  perhaps  be- 
come the  Have  cf  love  ;  but,  deprived  of  ail  that 
is  dear  to  man,  and  doomed  to  tsfte  invrJuatary 
Solhude,  the  beft  refource  fc^r  each  is  to  refign 
himfelf  to  the  dictates  of  his  inclination  :  a  re- 
fource to  which  every  v/ell-difpofed  and  virtuous 
TJiind  may  conftantiy  refort  without  difmay  or 
danger. 

Man  in  a  Rate  cf  perfedl  freedom  polTeffes  an 
innate  right  to  follow  the  fuggeftions  of  his  fan- 
cy :  fome  are  delighted  by  the  foft  melody  cf  the 
nightingale,  while  others  liften  with  eq'^-al  plealure 
to  the  hideous  ihriekings  of  the  cwl.  Soi.".e  there 
are  to  whom  even  the  vifits  of  friendlhip  are  dif- 


The  Influence  of  Seltinde,  3 1 

pleafing ;  whvo,  to  avoid  the  pair.fr.l  interccuife, 
confine  themfelves  eiernaliy  at  hoiLe,  ard  con- 
fume  their  hours  in  wTitirx,;  books,  or  kiilir  g  flies. 

The  poor  dejeded  heart  confcantly  attachrs  it- 
lelf  to  fome  lavcrite  object,  far  at  leaft,  as  cir- 
cuinftances  and  fituation  will  permit,  from  v/hich 
it  draws  its  confoiation  and  fupport.  Roan^ing 
through  the  clcifters  of  the  MagdaUme  Convent  at 
Hildelheim,  i  was  furprifed  to  oblerv^e  an  aviary 
of  Canary  birds  in  the  cell  ( f  a  Religieufe-  A 
Brabancon  gentleman,  fearful  of  the  effeds  cf 
cold,  and  having  the  fame  averfion  from  women 
that  certain  perfons  are  faid  to  feel  from  mice^^ 
lived  five  and  twenty  years  at  BrulTels  immured 
within  his  hcufe,  without  any  other  am.ufement 
than  that  of  colleding  a  magnificent  cabinet  of 
paintings  and  pidures. 

Under  the  confinement  even  cf  the  durgeon 
iifelf,  men,  deprived  forever  of  their  liberty,  en- 
deavor to  beguile  the  foUtude  in  v/hich  they  are 
forced  to  live,  by  devoting  their  thoughts,  as 
far  as  they  are  able,  to  thofe  purfuits  which  afford 
them  the  higheft  pleafure.  The  Swifs  philofo- 
pher,  Michael  Ducret,  raer.fured  the  heights  cf 
the  Alps  during  his  confinement  in  the  prifon  of 
Aarbur^,  in  the  canton  of  Berne  in  Switzerland  ; 
and  while  baron  de  Trenck,  a  prifoner  in  the 
tower  of  Magdeburg,  v/as  every  moment  anx- 
ioufly  emiployed  in  form.ing  prcjeds  to  effed  his 
efcage.  General  Walrave,  the  corcp'cinion  of  his 
captivity,  contentedly  paffed  his  time  in  the  feed- 
ing of-  chickens. 

The  term  Solitude  dees  not,  I  conceive,  always 
import  a  total  abfence  from  the  v/orlJ.  Some- 
times it  conveys  to  my  mind  the  k^ea  of  dwell ing^ 
in  a  convent,  or  a  country  vill-ige  :  fomeumesl 
underirand  it  to  m^e^n  the  library  cf  a  man  of 
iearni-  g  :  and  fometiivies  an  occafional  retreat 
from  ths  tuiViUUs  of  ndive  life. 


"J  a  ^The  Influence  of  Sditud^, 

Men  are  frequently  Sclitary  without  being  a- 
lone ;  for,  to  conllitute  aliateof  Sclirude,  it  is 
fufHcient  iftre  miuJ  be  entirely  ob  for  bed  by  thofe 
ideas  wi  ich  its  own  rcflefhcns  create. 

The  haughty  barcn,  proud  of  the  diflirdicns  of 
birth,  feels  hiii  felf  aicne  in  every  focieiy,  whofe 
members  are  not  ennobled  by  an  equal  number  of 
titles  derived  t'  rough  a  lorg  li  e  of  hereditary  de- 
fcenrs.  A  prcfcund  reafcner  is,  in  g-,  neral.  Soli- 
t?.ry  at  the  tabks  of  the  v/iity  and  the  gay.  The 
mind,  eveu  amidft  the  clamours  of  a  popuhr  af- 
femrjy,  niay  wi  hdraw  its  attention  from  the  fur- 
roundmg  obje(5ls,  may  retire  as  efFeftually  whhin 
itfelf,  may  become  as  Schtary,  as  a  monk  in  his 
monrJieryj  or  an  hermit  i:i  his  cell.  In  fhcrt.  Soli- 
tude may  be  as  e?fi!y  attained  amidfl  the  gayeft 
circles  of  the  moft  brilliant  ciiy,  as  in  the  uninter- 
rupted filence  of  a  poor,  defertcd  village ;  at  Lon- 
don and  at  Paris,  as  well  as  on  the  plains  of  1  lie- 
balsor  in  the  drfarts  of  Nitria. 

A  treatife,  therefcre,  upon  the  real  advantages 
to  be  derived  from  Solitude,  appeared  to  me  a 
proper  means  to  affifl  men  in    their  fearch  after 
hapoinefs.      The  fewer  external  refources  men 
pc fiefs,  the  greater  efforts  they  make  to  difcover 
in  themfelves  the  pov/er  of  beirg  happy  ;  and  the 
more  they  are  enahleJ  to  part,  without  regret, 
from  their  connexions  with  each  other,  the  near- 
er they  moft  certainly  approach   to  true  felicity. 
The  pleafures  of  the  world  appear  to  me  unwor- 
thy of  the  avidity  with  whicn  they  are  purfued, 
but  it  is  equally  true,  that,  upon  a  ferious  exam- 
ination, all  thofe  Catholic  notions,  once  fo  cele- 
brated, of  a  total  feclafion  from  the  world  and 
ks  co^iCems,  appear  altogether  impri^icable,  and 
equiUy  abfurd.    To  render  the  inind  independ- 
ent of  human  aiTiftance,  and  teach  ir  to  rrly^  en-  | 
tirely  upj  i  the  ftrength  of  its  own  powers,  is,  i  ! 
ackiowkdge,  a  noble  exertion  \  but  it  is  certain. 


Tlx  tnf.uence  &f  Solitude,  ^3 

iy  as  meritcrious  to  lenfn  the  art  of  living  happily 
in  I  he  bolcm  cf  focie^y,  and  of  rendering  our- 
ielves  ureful  and  agreeable  to  the  reft  cf  mankind. 

While,  therefore,  I  defcribe  the  alluremfntg 
of  Sohtude,  1  Ih'ill  endeavor^to  warn  my  re?.der» 
againft  rhofe  dangerous  excelTes  into  whicl^  feme 
cf  its  diic'ples  have  b*en  betrayed;  excelTes  2S 
repugnant  to  the  voice  of  reafon,  as  '  they  are  con- 
demned by  the  precepts  of  our  holy  religion. 

Happily  to  r.void  all  the  dangers  by  which 
my  fubjedl  is  furrounded,  to  facrifice  nothing  to 
prejudice,  to  advance  nothing  in  violation  of 
irutii,  to  obtain  the  apprrbaiion  of  the  p:-accful 
difciples  cf  reafon  and  philofophy,  will  be  my 
anxious  endeavor ;  and  if  aftllffion  fhall  derive 
a  ray  of  ccnfclation  from  ^ny  labors  :  if  mehn* 
chcly,  in  fbrgetting  the  horrors  of  its  fituation, 
ihaii  raife  its  dejetted  her.d  tc  blefs  me  ;  if  I  fhaM 
be  abl';  to  convince  the  i  ^.:io:er.t  votr.ries  of  rural 
retire? i  ca!:,  that  the  xpiiiif^s  cf  phcifiire  f: on  dry 
up  in  the  heat  of  the  metropohs  ;  that  the  heart 
remains  cold  and  fenfelefs  in  the  midft  of  all  its  noify 
and  faffiiious  joys ;  if  ihey  maii  kam  i6  teel  th^- 
fuperior  pleafures  of  a  country  life,  becouie  fen«. 
fible  cf  the  variety  of  refources  they  afford  againft 
idlenefs  and  vexation  ;  what  purity  of  fentlment, 
what  peaceful  thoughts,  what  unfading  happinefs, 
the  view  of  verdant  meads,  the  fight  of  numer- 
ous  flocks  and  herds  quitting  the  fertile  mesdows 
on  the  clofe  of  day,  inftil  into  the  miind ;  with 
v/hat  ineffable  delight  the  fuhUme  beauty  of  a 
v/ild,  romantic  country,  interfperled  with  didant 
cottages,  and  occupied  by  freedom  and  content, 
ravifnes  the  foul  ;  how  much  more  readily,  ia 
fhort,  we  forget  all  th.e  pains  and  troubles  of  a 
wounded  heart  cn  the  borders  of  a  gentle  ftream, 
than. amidft  the  concourFe  cf  deceitful  joys  lb  fa- 
tally follov/ed  in  the  c:ur{s  of  princes  ;  my  talk 
will  be  accompliihed,  and  all  my  wiflies  amply 
gratified  I 


34  Influence  cf  Sotitud^-t 

CHAP.  1L 

The  general  Advantages  of  Solitude, 

Solitude  engages  the  aSeftlons  of 
men,  wnenever  it  holds  up  a  pidufe  cf  tranquili« 
ty  to  their  view.  The  doleful  and  monotonous 
found  of  the  cl  >ck  of  a  fequeflered  monadery, 
the  filenceof  nature  in  a  D  ili  n'ght,  the  pure  air 
on  the  fummit  of  a  Ingh  mountain,  the  tliick 
dsrknefs  of  an  ancient  foreft,  the  fight  of  a  tem- 
ple fallen  into  rui.is,  infpire  the  foul  v/ith  a  foft 
melancholy,  and  baniih  all  recollection  of  the 
world  and  its  concerns.  But  the  man  who  can- 
not hold  a  friendly  c  ^refpcndence  v»^ith  his  own 
heart,  who  derives  no  comfrrt  from  the  reflections 
of  his  mind,  who  dre:^,ds  the  idea  of  meditation, 
and  is  fearful  of  paiTng  a  fmgle  moment  with 
himfelf,  looks  with  an  equal  eye  cn  Solitude  and 
on  death.  He  endeavors  to  enjoy  all  the  volup- 
tuoufnefs  whxh  the  world  affords  ;  draius  the 
pernicious  cup  of  pleafure  to  its  dregs  ;  and  un- 
til the  dreadful  moment  approaches  when  he  be- 
holds his  nerves  fhattered,  and  all  the  powers  of 
his  foul  deftroyed,  he  has  not  courage  to  make 
the  delayed  confefli  m,  "  /  am  tired  of  the  ivorld 
and  all  its  idle  fQllies^  and  now  prefer  the  mournfid  fhade 
of  the  cyprefs  to  the  intoxication  of  its  noify  pkafure  and 
tmnult lions  joys.'' 

The  dangers  to  which  a  life  of  Solitude  is 
expof^^d,  for  eve;3  in  Solitude  many  reid  da-gers 
exKL  aFord  no  fubPan  ial  argument  againfc  it  ; 
as  by  a  judicious  employmen!:  of  the  hours  of 
activity  repofe,  and  a  proper  vigilance  upon 
the  defires  of  t;ie  heart,  they  may  be  eaiily  elud- 
ed. The  adventurous  navigator,  when  acquaint- 
ed with  the  regnal  of  approaching  dangers,  and 
the  fituatioa  of  thofe  rocks  aud  fliQ^ls  which 


The  hifiucnct  of  Solkude,  35 

threaten  his  fafety,  no  lorg'-r  fe?-rs  the  perils  to 
which  i:e  was  before  expo  fed.  The  advantages 
of  Solitude  are  ft  ill  l.fs  difprcved  by  the  ccin- 
phin  s  cf  ihcfe  v/h.-^,  feeling  a  cortiDi.;al  de^re  to 
efcape  from  themfelves,  "re  incapable  of  every 
enjcyment  but  what  the  worli  affords  ;  to  \^  hom 
retirement  and  tranquility  appear  vapid  and  fa- 
tiguing ;  2i\A  who,  uriConfcicus  cf  any  ncMer 
pleaiiire  than  that  cf  p?.yirg  or  receivirg  vifi*?, 
have  of  courfe  no  idea  of  the  delights  cf  fcli- 
tude. 

It  is,  therefor?,  only  to  thcfe  diftinguiflied 
be'pgs  who  can  refer t  to  their  c\\ti  bcfonis  for  an 
antidote  againft  difquiet,  who  r.re  fer.rlefs  of  the 
Dumercus  lacrifices  which  v'rtue^  may  demand, 
whcfe  fouls  are.e:-;dowcd  with  fr:tEcier-t  .enen,y  to 
drive  away  the  dreiid  cf  being  alone,  and  wh:fe 
hearts  are  fufceptibie  cf  the  puve  and  tranquil  de- 
lights of  dornefLic  feh:ity,  that  I  pretend  to  rr- 
cominend  the  advantages  cf  »Sditude.  The  mif- 
eral-^le  being  in  wh  bof^m  the  ccrrupticns  of 
the  world  ■  h:.ve  already  deilroyed  thefe  precious 
gifts  of  nature  ;  who  knows  no  other  pkafure, 
is  fenfihle  to  no  ether  hr.ppinefs  than  whar  cards 
cr  the  luxury  of  a  richly-iurmfhed  t-.  ble  ?i?:rd  j 
who  dilllains  all  exercife  of  the  underflanding, 
thinks  all  dehcacy  of  fentimeat  unnatural,  and,  by 
a  brutahty  almoft  inconceivable,  hug;  s  at  the  ia- 
cred  name  of  fenfibility  ;  inuft  be  lofl  to  virtue, 
and  nferly  incapable  c-f  pler.fura  frcm  any  opera- 
tions of  his  own  mind. 

philofophers  and  minifters  cf  the  gofp:-l,  if 
they  were  entirely  lo  deprive  then^.felves  gf  the 
pleafnr^fs  cf  icciety,  aad  to  flmn,  with  rigid  fe ver- 
ity, the  honeft  comforts  and  ration;.!  amufeine»its 
cf  life,  would,  without  doubt,  elTeniially  injure 
the  interefts  of  wifdom  and  vii  tac  ;  but  there  are 
not,  at  prefent,  many  preceptors  wh.o  carry  their 
dcclriaes  to  this  extent    cn  the  contrary,  there 


3^ 


The  Infiiicnce  cf  Solitude, 


exifls  a  multitude,  both  in  the  country  and  the 
town,  to  whom  Solitude  would  be  iniupportable, 
who  fhainefully  devote  their  time  to  noify  diffi- 
p^tioiis  and  tuaiiiltuous  ploafures  altogether  in- 
confittant  with  their  charafters  acd  fundicns. 
The  celebrated  a&ra  is  piiiled  when  a  life  of  retire- 
ment and  contemplation  was  alone  edeemed,  and 
when  the  spproaches  to  heaven  were  meafured 
in  proportion  as  the  mind  receded  from  its  attach- 
ments to  the  wcrld. 

After  having  examined  the  influence  of  Sol- 
itude upon  the  genc-ral  habits  of  l:fe,  and  upon 
thcfe  ordinary  pie?  fares  which  are  purfued  with 
fuch  uncealing  avidity,  I  fhall  fhew,  in  the  firft 
divillon  of  this  chapter,  that  it  enables  man  to 
live  independent  and  al  jns  ;  that  there  is  no  mif- 
fortuce  it  canact  alleviate,  no  fcrr..w  that  it  will 
not  ibf:cn  y  that  it  adds  dignity  to  his  character, 
and  gives  trefn  vigor  to  the  powers  of  his  mind  ; 
that  be  cannot,  in  any  other  fituaiicn,  acquire  fo 
perfe<5l  a  knowledge  of  hia'fdf ;  that  it  enlarges 
the  fphere  of  atteiuioa,  and  ripens  the  feeds  of 
judgment  ;  in  lli;r',  th?.t  it  is  frorn  the  influ- 
ence of  Solitude  alone,  that  man  can  hope  for  the 
fruition  of  unbroken  pleafures  and  never-fading 
felicity. 

The  erjoyments  of  adive  life  may  eafilybe 
blended  with  the  mofl  ordinary  advantages  of 
Schtude  ;  and  we  fhrdl  foon  dilccver  upon  what 
foundations  the  opinions  of  thof-i  philcfophers 
are  bulb,  who  maintain  that  the  tumults  of  the 
wcrld,  and  the  difT-pation  of  its  votaries,  are  in- 
compatible with  the  calm  exercife  of  reafon,  the 
decifionsof  afcber  judgm.ent,  the  inveftigation  cf 
truth,  and  the  ftudy  of  the  hunian  heart. 

The  legion  of  fantaftic  f^fhions  to  which  a  man 
of  pleafure  is  obliged  to  facrifice  his  lime,  im.p;iirs 
the  rational  faculties  of  his  mind,  and  deiiroys  the 
native  energies  of  his  foul.    Forced  continually 


T^'e  Iripuente  of  Bolitnde* ' 


to  lend  himfelf  to  the  performance  of  a  thoufand 
iittle  triflings,  a  thoutand  mean  abfurdities,  he 
becomes  by  habit  frivolous  and  abfurd.  The 
£ice  of  things  no  longer  wears  its  true  and  genu- 
ine afpecfl  ;  and  his  depraved  tafte  lofes  all  relifh 
for  rational  entertainment  or  fubftantial  pleafure. 
'j'he  infatuation  feizes  on  his  brain,  and  his  cor- 
-rupted  heart  teems  with  idle  fancies,  and  vain  im- 
aginations. Thefe  illufions,  hov/ever,  throug^i 
which  the  phinelt  objed;  comes  diflorted  to  his 
view,  might  eafily  be  difpeiled.  Accuftomed  to 
a  lonely  life,  and  left  to  refled  in  calmnefs  and 
Ibbriety,  during  the  filence  of  the  Solitary  hour, 
upon  the  falfe  joys  and  deceitful  pleafures  which 
the  parade  of  vifiucg  and  the  glare  of  public  en- 
tertainments offer  to  our  view,  he  would  fooa 
perceive  and  candidly  acknowledge  their  nothing- 
nefs  and  infipidity  :  fcon  would  he  beheld  the 
pleafures  of  the  world  in  their  true^  colors,  and 
feel  that  he  had  ^  blindly  wandered  in  purfuit  of 
phantoms  ;  poffeffmg  ibmething  in  appearance, 
.but  nothing  in  reality. 

Languor  and  diflatisfadion  are  ever  the  in- 
evitable confequences  of  this  ardent  purliiit  of  en- 
tertainments and  diverfiDns.   He  who  has  draia- 
-  ed  the  cup  of  pleafure  to  its  lail  drop  ;   who  is 
obliged  to  confefsthat  his  hopes  are  fled,  and  that 
..  the  world  no  longer  contains  an  objed  worthy  of 
J  his  purfuit:   who  feels  difappointments  and  dif- 
i  gufl:  mingled  with  all  his  enjoyments  ;  who  feems 
aflonifhed  at  bis  own  infenflbihty  ;  who  no  long- 
er poflTefles  the  magic  of  the  enchantrefs  Ima- 
gination to  gild  and  decorate  the  fccne;  calls  ia 
vain  to  his  afliitance  the  daughters  of  ienfuality  ; 
their  careiTes  can  no  longer  ctiarm  his  dark  and 
■  melancholy  mind  ;  the  foft  and  fyren  fong  of  lux- 
ury n©  longer  can  difpel  the  cloud   of  difcontent 
which  hovers  round  his  head. 

Behold  yon  weak  old  man  !  his  mind  ener- 
(IV) 


Thfe  Jufuencc  of  Solitude. 

vated,  and  his  conftitiition  gone,  running  «fft(?r 
pleaiures  that  he  no  more  mud  tafte.  Tlae  airs  of 
.saiety  which  he  affe(5ls,  render  him  ridiculous. 
His  attempts  to  fhine  expofe  him  to  derifion.  His 
endeavors  to  difplay  the  wit  and  eloquence  of 
youth,  betray  him  into  the  garrulity  of  old  age. 
His  converfa'tion  filled  with  repetitions  and  fadgu- 
ing  narrative,  creates  dilguft,  and  only  forces  the 
dmile  of  pity  from  th€  lips  of  his  youthful  rivals.  | 
To  the  eye  of  wirdom,  however,  that  faw  hini  \ 
through  all  the  former  periods  of  his  life,  fpark- 
ling  in  all  the  circles  of  folly,  and  rioting  in  the 
iioiiy  rendezvous  of  extravagance  and  vice,  his 
character  always  appeared  the  fame. 

The  wife  man  in  the  midfl  of  the  mofh  tu- 
jnultuoias  pleafures,  frequently  4'etires  within 
himfelf,  and  filently  compares  what  he  might 
do  with  what  he  is  doing.  Surrounded  even  by 
the  excefles  of  intoxication,  he  alfociates  only -with 
thofe  warm  and  generous  fouls,  whole  highly  ele- 
,:vated  minds  are  drawn  towards  each  other  by 
wifhes  the  moft  virtuous,  and  fentiments  the 
-^inofl  fublime.  The  filence  cf  SoHtude  has 
more  than  once  given  birth  to  enterprizes  of 
the  greateft  importance  and  utility  ;  and  fome  of 
the  moft  celebrated  adions  of  mankind  were  per- 
haps firft  infpired  among  the  founds  of  mufic,  or 
conceived  in  the  mazes  of  the  dance.  Senfibleand 
elevated  miods  never  commune  more  cloi'ely  with 
themfelves  than  in  thofe  places  of  public  refort  in 
which  the  low  and  vulgar,  abandoned  to  the  ca- 
price of  fafhion  and  the  illufions  of  fenfuality,  be- 
-come  incapaMe  of  refledion,  and  blindly  lliffer 
themfelves  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  torrent  of 
folly  and  diftracffion. 

Vacant  fouls  are  always  burthenfome  to  their 
pofTeffors ;  and  it  is  the  weight  of  this  burdea 
that  impels  them  inceHantly  in  (he  purfuit  s  of  dif- 
4ipaUon  for  rdiefi  ^  The  irrefiHible  inclination  by 


The  InJhienH  of  SoUtudt\  7^' 

t^^hich  they  J^re  carried  continually  abroad,  the 
anxiety  with  which  they  I'earch  for  fociety,  the 
trifles,  on  w  \q]\  from  day  to  day  they  fpend  their 
time,  anr.cunce  the  emptineis  of  their  minds  and" 
the  frivolous  aiiecticn  of  their  hearts-  Pcll'.liing;- 
no  rcfourccs  within  themfelves,  they  are  forced^ 
to  rovvj  abroad,  and  fa^lxn  up:n  every  ol  jcci:  that 
preleuts  iiftlf  to  their  view,  until  they  find  ti^e'' 
wiihed  for  harbor  to  protect  them  againll  the  at* 
tacks  cf  dilcontent,  and  prevent  thciii  from  ra-» 
finding  on  tlieir  ignoble  condition. 

'Ihe  enjoyments  of  fenle,  therefore,  are  ttius 
indefatigally  fell  v/edonly  as  a  nicans  of  eica- 
pirg  from  themf-lves.  I  hty  feize  with  avidity 
upon  every  objecl  that  promiles  to  occupy  the 
prefent  hour  agreeably,  and  provide  cuertain- 
iTient  for  the  day  that  is  p;:irmg  orer  their  heads 
this  muitever  he  fome  e:-itenval-  object,  f:,me  new 
ph.mtom,  fomething-  that  fhall  prevent  them 
from  remainlrg  wi=h  themfelves.  The  manwh  fe 
mind  is  Riffici-ntiy  fertile  to  invent  hour  after 
h:ur  new  ichemes  of  plealure,  to  open  day  al-- 
ter  day  freih  fources  cf  amulement  for  the  l?.zy 
and  hixurious,  is  a  valuable  companion  i  ^.deed, 
he  is  th^.ir  brlt,  their  only  friend  ;  not  that  they- 
are  them.felves  deiiitute  of  abihty  to  find  fucli 
employment  as  n  ight  prevent  the  total  facrifice 
of  time,  and  relieve  their  bofoms  from  the  bur-; 

.  then  of  themfelves  ;  but  having  always  indti^.ged 
the  inclinaticn  of  beirg  led  continually  from  one 
new  obj;a  to  anothtr,  the  call  of  pleafare  be- 

;  comes  the  lirfl  want  andmoii  arc'ent  wi(h  of  their 
li^fs.    From  that  moment  they  infenfibly  iofe  the 

^  pow:r  of  acting  from  themfelves,  and  depend  for 
every  thing  on   thole  about  thens,  without  being, 

I  ?J)le  to  direcl  or  determine  the  impreffioiis  they 
ought  to  rec-rive.  This  is  the  reafon  why  the- 
tich,  who  are  feldoin  acquainted  with  any  cthc$' 


Tl^e  Inf,ucnee  of  ^oUtucU* 


pleafures  than  thofe  of  fenfe,  are,  in  generiil,  tlie 
nicft  miferable  of  men. 

The  nobility  and  courtiers  cf  France  think 
their  er.joyments  iipp^ar  vain  and  ridiculous  only 
to  thofe  who  have  not  the  opportunity  of  partak- 
ing in  them  ;  but  I  r.m  of  a  different  opinion. 

Returning  one  Sunday  from  Trianon  to 
Verfailles,  1  psrceivcd  at  a  diftance  a  number  of 
people  alTembled  upon  the  terrace  of  the  caltle, 
and  on  a  nearer  approach  I  beheld  Louis  the 
Fifteenth  furrounded  by  his  court  at  the  windows 
of  his  palace.  A  man  very  richly  dreiled,  with  a 
large  pair  of  brandling  antlers  fcflened  on  his 
head,  whom  they  called  the  fiag,  ^v/as  purfueJ 
by  about  a  dozen  others,  who  compofed  the  pack. 
The  purfued  and  the  purfiiers  leaped  in^o  the 
great  canal,  fcrambled  cut  again,  acd  ran  about 
to  ail  part.9,  while  the  air  refounded  with  accla- 
♦matiors  and  clapping  of  hands,  to  encourage  the 
continuance  of  the  fport.  "What  can  all  thiy 
mean  la'd  I  to  a  Frenchman  who  flood  near 
me — "  Sir,"  he  replied  Vvith  a  very  ferious  ccu^^- 
tenance,  ''it  is  for  the  entertainment  of  the  court.*' 

The  moll:  obicure  and  indigent  perlons  are 
certainly  happier  than  thefe  fovereigns  of  the 
world,  and  their  llavifh  retinue,  when  reduced  to 
the  neceffity  of  adopting  fuch  mean  and  aVject 
modes  of  entertainment. 

The  courtier,  v/hen  he  appears  at  a  lev^e, 
outwardly  affeds  the  face  of  j  :y,  while  his  heart 
is  inwarJiy  a  prey  to  the  moft  excruciating  for- 
rows  ;  and  Ip  aks  with  the  livelieli:  intereil  cf 
tranik(flions  in  which  he  had  no  concern  ;  but 
perhaps  it  is  necelfary  to  his  confequence  that  he 
fh -luld  raife  falfe  appearances  to  the  minds  of  his 
vilitors,  who  on  their  fide  impofe  equally  on  him 
in  return.  The  fuccefs,  alas !  of  all  his  fclienres 
affords  him  no  other  pbafure  than  to  fee  his  a- 
partments  crowded  with    company,  whofe  only 


fej  Influence  of  Solit^Jd^  4.?. 

ft^erit  and  recommendation  in  his  eyes  is  a  firing 
of  hereditary  ti  les,  of  perhaps  no  very  remote 
antiquity  or  hoiicKible  origin. 

On  this  privation  of  the  li^bt  of  hiiman  reafon 
do  the  felicities  of  a  worL'ly  life  mcit"  frequently 
depend.  From  this  dark  fource  fpring  the  inordi- 
nate pride  of  the  haughty  noble,  and  the  no  lef^ 
unbounded  ambition  of  the  fimple  ^nechanic.^  Hence 
arife  the  difdahi  of  fome^tbe  haughtinefs  cf  others,- 
and  the  felly  cf  alL- 

To  men  of  diflipated  minds^  who  dread,  be-- 
3^ond  every  other  ferr,  the  painful  intrufion  of  a 
rational  fentim.ent,  thefe  numerous  and  noify  places 
of  public  refcrt  appear  like  temples  dedicated  to 
their  idol  pleafure.  He  who  leeks  happinefs- on- 
the  couch  cf  indolence  ;  who  expends  all  the  acbv« 
iiy  of  his  mind,  all  the  energies  of  his  heart,  upon 
iriliing  objects  ;  who  fuffers  vain  and  frivolous  pur- 
fuits  to  abfcrb  his  time,  toergiige  his  attention,  to 
lock  up  i;  11  the  fundionscf  his  fouljC-innot  patiently 
endure  the  ideaofbeingfcr  onemoment  by  himfelf. 

Direful  condition !  Is  there  then  no  occupa- 
tion wha:f:,ever.  no  ufeful  employment,,  no  ration- 
al recreation  fufficiently  high  and  digaified  fcr  fuch 
a  character  I  Is  he  of  neceility  reduced  to  the  af- 
flicting fi  nat  ion  of  not  being  able  to  perfcrtn  a  good 
and  virtuous  aclion  during  the  intervals  of  fufp :-ndi'~ 
ed  pleafure  ?  Can  he  render  no  fr-rvices  to  friend- 
fh'P  ?  to  his  country?  to  himfelf  ?  Are  there  no 
poor  and  miferable  beings,  to  w-iofe  bofoms  he  might 
aff.;rd  a  charitable  comfort  and  relief?  Is  it,,  in 
fhort,  impclTible  for  fuch  a  character  to  become  in 
any  way,  more  wife  or  virmous  than  he  was  be- 
fore ? 

The  powers  of  the  human  foul  are  more  ex- 
ten  five  than  they  are  in  gener;.l  im?-gi';,ed  to  be  ; 
andhewh?,  urged  by  inclination,  or  compelled  by 
neceility, moft  tr-:qucn'.ly  exerts  them, will  f':on  fiad 
that  tne  highcil  felicities,  of  which  our  nature  is  ca^ 
(iV  2) 


4''2  The  Influence  of  Solifucfc'' 

pabk,  refide  jntirely  within  'oiirf elves.  The  wants 
of  life  are,  for  the  greater  part,  merely  artificial  ; 
and  although  fenfual  objeds  moft  efficacioufly  con- 
tribute to  our  pleafure  and  content,  it  is  not  becaufe 
the  enjoyment  of  them  is  abfolutely  neceffary,  but 
becaufe  they  have  been  rendered  defirable  by  the 
effect  of  habit.  The  gratifications  they  afford,  ea- 
!ily  perfuade  us,  that  the  pjffeffion  of  them  is  effen- 
tial  to  happinefo  ;  but  if  we  had  fortitude  to  refift 
their  charms,  and  courage  to  lock  within  our  owa 
bofoms  for  that  felicity  which  we  fo  anxioufly  ex- 
pect to  derive  from  external  abjecl:s,  we  fhould  fre- 
•luently  find  a  much  gr-ater  varety  of  refources 
<there  than  all  the  objects  of  fenfe  are  capable  of  af- 
fording. 

Men  of  fnperficial  minds  may  indeed  derive 
fome  amufement  from  affemhiies,  to  which  the 
company  in  general  refort  merely  to  fee  and  ia  he  feen : 
but  hrDw  many  women  of  fafhion  expire  in  fiich  af- 
femhiies, under  all  the  m.ortification  of  difappointed 
vanity  \  how  many  neglecled  wits  fuUenly  retire 
iato  fomeobfcure  corner  of  the  room  \  The  mind, 
cn  entering  the  circles  of  th^e  gre:it  r.nd  gay,  is  apt 
to  flatter  itfelf  too  highly  with  hopes  of  apphufe  ; 
to  wait  with  too  much  anxiety  for  the  promiled 
pleafure.    Wit,  coquetry,  fer.fu  ility,  it  is  true,  are 
at  thefe  meetings,  frequently  exercifed  with  c>.nfid- 
erable  fuccefs.    Every  candidate  difphiys  the  little 
talent  he  polTeffes  to  the  befl  advantage  ;  and  the 
ieaft  informed  are  not  unfrequently  confidered  the 
moft  fhinicg  characters.   The  eye,  however,  may 
occafionally  be  gratified  by  the  fight  of  ohjeds  re- 
ally agreeable ;  the  ear  may  liften  to  obfervations 
truly  fl  ittering.    Lively  thoughts  and  fenfible  re- 
marks now  and  then  prevail.    CharacVers  equally 
amiable  and  iatereftlng,  occafionally  mix  among 
the  group.    We  may  form  acquaintance  with  mea 
of  diftingaifhsd  merit,  wlio'n  we  ihDuld  not  other- 
wife        had  aa  opDrtaaity  of  knowing ;  aud 


The  Injluoxce  of  SoUtud^, 


41 


meet  wi<h  woiren  cf  eflimable  qualities  and  ir- 
reproachable Gonducc,  v/hofe  refined  converfa'iou 
ravifli'^s  the  mind  with  the  fame  delight  that  thtir 
cxquilite  beauty  captivates  the  hearr. 

But  by  what  a  number  of  painful  fenfations 
muft  this  chance  of  pleafures  be  purcha fed  1  He 
whf  m  a  filent  forrow,  a  fecret  difcontent,  a  ration- 
al diipofition  prevents  frcm  mixing  in  the  commcn 
difTipations  of  life,  connot  fee  without  a  figh  the 
gay  conceit,  the  airy  confidence,  the  bhnd  arro* 
gance,  and  the  bcli  loquacity,  with  which  thefe 
votaries  of  worldly  pleafures  proclaim  a  felicity, 
that  lesds  them,  almcft  inevitably,  to  their  ruin. 

It  is,  indeed,  irrefutably  laughable  to  obferve 
the  exceffive  joy  of  fo  many  men  in  place,  the  ab- 
furd  airs  of  fo  many  old  dowagers,  the  prefumptu- 
ous  and  ridiculous  fopperies  of  fo  many  hoary- 
headed  children  ;  but  who,  alas  I  is  there,  that  will 
not  grow  tired  even  cf  the  pleafantcft  comedy,  by 
feeing  it  too  frequently  f  He,  therefore,  who  has 
often  been  an  eye-witnefs  of  thefe  fcenes,  who  has 
often  yawned  with  fatigue  in  thefe  temples  of  pleaf- 
ure,  and  is  convinced  that  they  exhibit  rather  the 
illufion  and  appearance  than  the  fubicance  and  real- 
ity of  pl:afure,  becomes  fad  and  forrowful  in  the 
m'dfl:  of  all  their  joys,  and  haftily  retires  to  domef- 
tic  privacy,  to  taiie  of  pleafures  in  which  there  is 
no  deceit  :  pleafures,  which  have  neither  difquiet- 
ude  nor  diffitisfaclion  behind  them. 

An  inviration  to  the  board  of  Luxury,  where 
Difeafe  with  leaden  fceptre  is  known  to  prefide, 
where  painful  truths  are  blurted  in  the  ears  cf  thofe 
who  hoped  they  were  concealed,  where  reproach 
and  calumny  fall  without  difcrimination  on  thebefi: 
and  worft  of  characters,  is  in  the  eftimation  cf  the 
world,  conceived  to  confer  the  highefl  honor  and 
^  the  greatefl  pleafure.  But  he  who  feels  the  divine 
'  energies  of  the  foul  turns  with  abhorrence  from  thofe 
focieties  v/hich  tead  to  dirainilh  or  impair  their  op» 


4?- 


The  lnfiucn:e  of  ^d'ltndc. 


a-ations.  To  him  thefnTipleR:  fare,  v/ith  frcfcJoih' 
?.nJ  content  in  (he  boicm  of  an  affectionate  family, 
is  ten  thoufand  times  more  agreeable  than  the  rareft 
dainty  and  the  rich eli  wine,  with  a  foci?fy  where 
fxolitenefs  inipcfe.s  a  filcnt  attention  to  fome  vain 
wit,  from  whofe  l^ps  nothing  but  fatiguing  nonfenfe 
ever  proceeds. 

C:nlic;ence  unlimited,  fentiments  mutually  in^- 
terchanged  and  equaliy  fiLcere,  are  the  or.ly  fc'urc-- 
es  from  which  the  true  pleafures  of  fociety  can 
fpring.  The' fpiridefs  and  crowded  affemblies  of' 
the  world,  where  a  round  of  low  r.nd  little  pleafures 
nils  the  hour  of  entertainment,  and  pride  only  af* 
prlres  to  difpliy  a  pomp  ofdr-fs  and  levity  of  behav- 
ior, may  perhaps  afford  a  glimpfe  of  joy  to  fght- 
and  thcughtlds  minds,  eagerly  impatient  to  remove 
the  weight  which  every  vacant,  hour  accumulates. 
Batmen  of  reafon  andrcfl:cdon^who,in(l=adof  fen»- 
lible  converlhtion,  inftead  of  any  rational  amufement 
fmd  only  a  dull,  unvaried  jargon,  a  tirefome  round 
of  compliments,  ieel  averfion  from  thefe  tem- 
ples of  del"  ght,  and  refort  to  thera  with  cclinels,. 
diffatisfaclion,  and  difgiift. 

How  tirefome  do  2 11  the  pleafures  of  the  world' 
appear,  when  compared  with  t)ie  happinv^fs  of  a 
faithful,  tender,,  and  enlightned  friendfhip  !  How 
joyful  do  v/e  fhake  off"  the  fhackles  of  fociety  for 
that  high  and  intimate  connection  of  the  foul,  where 
our  inclinations  are  free,  our  feel'ngs  genuine,  our* 
fentiments  imhiafled  ;  where  a  mutual  confidence 
of  thoughts  and  aedons,  of  pleafurt-s  and  of  pains.^. 
uninterruptedly  prevails  \  where  the  heart  is  led 
with  joy  along  the  path  of  viiiue,  and  the  mind- 
conducled  by  happin  fs  into  the  bowers  of  truth  ;. 
where  every  thought  is  anticipated  before  it  efcapeS' 
from  the  lips  ;  wi^ere  adv'ce,  c^nfolation,  fuccor^. 
are  reciprccally  given  and  rec.-ived  in  idl  the  acci* 
dents  and  misfortunes  of  lifr  !.  The  foul,  thus  an- 
imatt^d  by  the  charm  of  fncn.fhip,  (prings  fr^m  its 


The  lufiuenct  of  S>olitid?*  4  ?? 

loth  and  apathy,  and  \dews  the  irrAdi:^.ting  beams 
of  hope  breaking  on  its  repofe.  Cafling  a  retro- 
^pe<^"tive  eye  on  the  time  th?.t  has  pafied,  the  happy 
pair  mutually  exclaim  with  the  tendereft  emoiionf?, 
O  !  what  pleaiures  have  we  not  ehead-y  experi- 
enced, what  joys  have  we  not  ah'eady  frit  1"  Does 
the  tear  of  forrow  lieal  down  the  cheek  of  ihe  one  ? 
the  other  with  alieclion '  wipes  it  tenderly  away, 
Tne  deepefl:  forrov/s  of  the  one  are  fek  wrih  equal 
poignancy  by  the  cthrr  :  but  what  forrow  can  re- 
fift  the  confchtion  which  flows  from  an  interccurle 
of  he?.rts  fo  tenderly,  fo  hitinxitely,  fo  ciofely  uni- 
ted f  Day  after d".y  they  ccmmunicate  to  each  olier 
all  that  they  have'feen,  all  tiiat  they  have  heard,  r.Ii 
that  they  fecl,and  everything  that  tneyknow.  Tinie 
flies  before  them  on  his  fwifteft  pinions.  The  ear  i& 
never  tired  of  thi  gratifications  of  liKening  to  each 
other's  converfation.  The  only  niisf  rtnne  of 
which  they  have  any  fear,  is  the  grcateft  they  can 
poffibly  experience,  the  misfortune  of  ablence,  rep- 
aration, and  death. 

PoiTefied  of  fuch  refined  felicity,  it  muft  not  b* 
at:ributed  to  aufterity  of  character,  or  incivility  of 
manners,  but  i  o  a  venial  error  of  imagination,  if  the 
iitercrurfes  of  ordinary  minds  no  longer  charm  las.; 
if  we  become  infer lible  to  their  indifference,  and 
C";reiefs  of  tkeir  aveifion  ;  if,  in  confequence  of  t-  e 
fupmority  of  cur  j  Dys,  we  no  l  inger  mix  in  the 
noilV  pleafurcs  of  the  world,  and  fhuii  all  fociety 
which  has  numbers  only  for  it5^  recommend.vion. 

But  it  is  the  lot  of  human  blifs  t3  be  unftibl?. 
Of:e:iti'nes,  alas  !  when  we  conceive  cur  enjoy- 
ments mcft  cc-rtain  and  fecure,  an  unforefeen  and 
fudden  blow  firikes,  even  in  cur  very  arms  the  un- 
happy victim  of  its  fate.  On  fuch  an  event  cdl  the 
pleafure  of  our  Uves  appears  to  be  for  an  hour  exlin- 
guifhcd  ;  the  fuiTv^unding  objf  ^Is  feem  defart  and 
forlorn  ;  every  thing  we  behold  excites  terror  and 
difmay.   The  arms  cf  friendfaip  are  ia  vaia  extend- 


4<5  The  Infuence  of  Solku:k, 

ed  to  embnce  (he  friend  that  is  no  umre  ;  in  vain 
the  ^oice  of  IbnJnefs  articulates  the  beloved  name» 
'1  he  Itepy  the  well-known  ftep,  fcems  fuddenly  to 
fb-'.ke  upon  our  litterjiiig  ear  ;  hut  refl-dion  inter- 
p.;fes,  ?.nd  the  fancied  lounds  are  heard  no  more 
alHs  hulhed,  fiiil  and  lifelels  :  we  are  rendered  al-* 
mcR  ir.lenfible  of  exHt^nce.  Solitude  appears  on 
everyfide,  and  the  bleeding  heart  withdraws  the  at- 
tention of  the  mind  from  every  livii  g;  objed.  The 
wearied  fpiri  s,  in  the  hour  of  dejection,  perfuade 
us  that  ai'Rct  on  is  g  ^ne,  and  that  we  are  no  longer 
capable  of  lovif^g  or  of  being  beloved  ;  and  to  a  heart 
that  has  onc^  tailed  the  fympathies  of  lovj,  li^e,, 
withoui  alTecftion,  is  d-ath  the  moft  hcrrible.^  I'he 
unfor innate  being,  tlierefore,  who  has  experienced 
this  milery,  is  inclined  to  live  in  Sohtude  and  die 
abn?.  In  theie  rcfl.cting  moments,  in  this  fuddea 
Iranfition  irom  the  height  of  happinefs  to  the  deep- 
eti  mifery  noperfon  feems  anxious  to  cfFtr  h'ln  ths 
fmalleft  confclation,  to  participate  in  his  fufierings, 
or  to  becip:ble  of  formirg  an  adequate  idea  of  his- 
difci*efs  :  the  grief,  indeed,  which  luch  a  lofs  inflicls, 
cannot  be  conceived  until  it  h  i?  b"::en  felr. 

It  i^^,  however,  under  chcumiiances  like  thefe 
that  Soiiiudeenj  :ys  its  higheft  triumph  :  it  is  here 
tlht  all  the  advantages  w'dch  refult  from  it  maybe 
fully  experienced  ;  for  alir<ftion  h-is  no  wounds  to 
wiii'ch,  when  wilely  appUed,  it  will  not  give  imme- 
di-ate  eafe,  and  in  the  event  c  ranpleteiy  cure. 

Tne  wounds  of  P.fll.clicn,  ic  is  true,  admit  only 
of  a  ilow  and  gradual  remedy.  The  art  of  living 
alone  requires  lb  much  initiation  before  it  can  be 
acquired,  is  fubjecf  to  fneh  a  variety  of  accidents, 
and  depends  fo  much  uponfituations  fuitableto  the. 
h«nt  of  particular  characters,  that  the  mind  muft 
have  attained  an  high  degree  of  maturity  tor  Soli- 
tude, betcre  eilc(Sts  ib  c.  nfiderahle  and  advanta- 
geous gan  be  expected  from  it ;  but  he  who  has  ac- 
quiied  fufficieut  vigor  to  break  the  galUrg  chains 


•fjrejudice,  and  from  his  earl'efl  youth h;ig  felt  efleem 
and  fbndnefs  for  the  pleafures  of  retiremenr,  will 
not,  under  fuch  circumllances,  be  embarrafTed  in  his 
choice.  From  the  momsiit  he  perceives  himfelf  iu- 
diilcreat  to  the  objecls  which  fijrround  him,  and  that 
the  gaieties  of  public  fociety  have  left  their  charms, 
he  will  then  rely  on  the  powers  of  his  foul,  and  nev- 
-tr  be  lefs  ahme  thin  in  the  company  cf  himfelf. 

Men  of  g3nius  are  frequently  condemned  to 
employments  as  difagreeable  to  the  temper  of  their 
vminds  as  a  naufeous  medicine  is  to  an  empty  llom- 
ach.    Forced  to  toil  upon  fame  dry  and  difguiiing 
'fmbj ad,  confined  to  a  particular  fpot,  and  utterly 
unable  to  nleafe  themtclves  from  the  trcublelbme 
and  impending  yoke,  fuch  characlens  feldom  expect 
tranquility  on  this  fide  of  the  grave  ;  for  deprived 
of  the  opportunities  of  engagir.g  in  the  diiiipitiocs 
of  life,  every  object  which  the  world  prefents  to 
their  view,  encreafes  their  diiguft.    It  is  not  for 
them,  they  exclaim,  th^t  the  yaung  zeph3^rs  open 
the  budding  foliage  with  their  carciling  breath; 
that  the  feathered  choir  pour  fc*th,  in  enlivening 
ilraius,  their  rural  fongs  ;  that  odoriferous  flowers 
deck  the  e a ameiled  meads.    But  leave  thefe  com- 
plainants to  themfelves,  give  th.em  their  liberty  and 
Jeifure,  and  you  would  foon  obferve  the  native  en- 
-thufiafm  of  their  minds  regenerate,  and  fee  them  m 
the  higheft  region  foarng  with  the  bold  wing  and 
penetrating  eye  of  the^bird  of  Jove. 
\       If  Solitude  be  capable  of  dillipating  griefs  of 
'  this  com.plexioD,  what  elTe£t  will  it  net  produce  on 
the  minds  of  men  who  have  the  opportunity  of  re- 
tiring at  pleafure  to  its  friendly  fhades,  who  onlv 

-  feck  for  the  enjoyments  of  a  pure  air,  and  whole 
only  defire  is  domeflic  felicity  !  When  Antifthene^i 

-  was  afked,  what  fervice  he  had  received  from  phi- 
lofophy,  he  anfwered,  "  It  has  taught  me  to  fubdue 
myielf?*  Pope  fays  that  he  never  laid  b  is  head  upon 
14s  pillow  without  refl;iting5  ^hat  the  nicH  impor- 


45  Influence  of  $oIkui^' 

tant  leffon  of  life  was  to  learn  the  art  of  being  hap- 
py within  hiaifelf.  I:  feems  to  me  that  all  thofe  who 
are  capable  of  liviog  contentedly  at  home,  and  of 
loving  every  obje(5l  by  which  they  are  furrounded, 
even  to  the  dog  and  the  cat,  have  found  what  Pope 
looked  for. 

Thcfe  pleafures  and  diffipations  which  are 
fought  after  with  fo  much  eagfraefs  and  anxiety, 
have,  in  truth,  the  effecl  of  producing  the  molt  le- 
rious  refle6t':on  in  our  minds,  wnen  we  conimune 
with  ourfel'v/cs^  It  is  then  that  we  learn  in  what  the 
true  felicity  of  life  prpperly  confift,  whether  in  the 
pofTeflion  of  thofe  external  objects  which  we  have 
no  power  either  to  aiter  or  reform,  or  in  a  due  and 
proper  regulation  of  ourfelves.  It  is  then  that  wc 
begin  to  perceive  how  falfe  and  .faithlefs  thcfe  flat- 
tering illufions  prove,  which  feem  to  promife  us  fo 
much  happinels.  A  lady,  pcfTeffed  of  3^ouih  and 
beauty,  wrote  to  me  ore  veuiog  oq  returning  from 
»  a  celebrated  ridotto,  "  You  obferved  with  what 
gaiety  and  content  1  quitted  the  fcene.  Believe  me, 
1  felt  a  void  fo  painful  in  my  breaft  at  the  light  of  I 
thofe  fic^:itious  jrys,  that  I  could  willingly  have  torn 
the  flowery  decorations  from  my  drefs." 

All  the  pleafures  of  the  world  are  nothing,  if 
they  do  not  render  the  heart  more  happy  in  itfelf, 
and  tend  to  Increafe  our  domeftic  felicity.  On  the 
contrary,  evay  fpecies  of  misfortune,  however  ac- 
cumulated, may  be  borne  by  thofe  who  are  capable 
of  enjoying  the  privacy  of  ftudy,  and  the  elegant 
recreation  which  books  afford.  To  have  obtained 
this  refcurce,  is  already  to  have  made  confiderable 
advances  towards  happinefs ;  for  it  would  be  pre- 
fumptuous  to  exafl  more  from  us  than  an  inclina* 
tion  to  regulate  the  afFr^ions  of  the  heart,  and  to 
controul  the  pafTi^ns  of  the  mind.  A  celebrated 
philofoph^r,  therefore  has  with  great  judgment  ob- 
ferved,  that  th;re  is  both  pride  and  falfehood  in  pre- 
fc-adirg  that  maa  alone  is  capable  of  effeding  his 


Injfuenoe  of  Solitude* 


4^ 


ctvn  happ'nefs.  We  are,  however,  mofx  certainly 
capable  of  modifying  the  nat  ural  difpofitions  of  our 
fouls ;  v/e  are  capable  of  forming  our  taftes,  vary- 
ing cur  fentinTicnts,  direding  our  inclinations,  of 
fubduing  even  th?  paiTions  themfelves  ;  and  we  are 
then  not  only  lefs  fenfible  of  all  the  wants  of  life, 
but  feel  even  fatls faction  under  circumftanccs  which 
to  others  would  appscir  grievous  and  intolerable. 
Health  is,  without  d:ubt,  one  of  the  moft  precious 
enj  yments  man  cau  p  fiefs ;  and  yet  there  are  cir- 
camiianciS  and  fituations,  under  which  even  the 
privation  of  it  may  be  accompanied  with  real  tran- 
quility. How  many  times  have  I  returned  my 
thanks  to  the  Great  Difpofer  of  human  events  for 
an  indifpofition  which  has  confined  me  at  home,  and 
enabled  me  to  invigorate  tre  weakened  functions  of 
my  foul  in  quietude  a,nd  filence  !  an  happinefs  that 
receded  a-s  my  indifpofition  quitted  me.  After  hav- 
ing been  obhged  to  drag  tlirough  the  ftreets  of  the 
metropolis  every  day  of  my  life  during  a  number 
of  years  with  a  feeble  conflitution  and  weakened 
limbs,  fufceptible,  on  feeling  the  fmallefl:  col  l,  to  the 
(ame  fenfations  as  if  knives  were  icparating  the  flefh 
from  the  bone  ;  after  exp^ncing  day  after  day, 
in  the  c-urfe  cf  my  prcfeirno,  forrows  fo  arliicling, 
that  I  offered  up  the  gratitude  of  my  heart  with  tears 
of  joy,  when  it  pleaied  the  Almighty  to  afford  me 
a  moment  of  eafe  and  quietude ;  it  will  not  be  won- 
dered that  any  indifpofition  which  cccafioned  my 
CDufinement  fnculd  afford  me  inexpreffible  happinefs. 

The  phyfician  who  pollefirs  the  leaflfennbility, 
being  continually  emiployed  m  adininiffering  relief 
to  the  fuifcrings  of  others,  muft,  without  doubt, 
frequently  forget  his  own  ;  but  aks  !  how  often 
alfo  m.ufh  he  feel  the  horror  of  his  fituation,  where 
he  is  fummoned  to  exercife  a  power  not  within  the 
reach  of  his  art,  and  is  obliged  to  attend,  notwitli- 
ftanding  all  the  bodily  and  m.ental  anguifn  he  may 
pcrfocly  feel.   Und;r  fuch  cir-cumftaixes,  the  dif- 


50  The  Infiucncc  -of  ^oUtude* 

eafe  which  relieves  the  mind  from  the  dlflradron  of 
anxiety,  is  to  me  a  foft  repofe,  a  pbafir.g  Solitude, 
provided  pecvifh  friends  do  not  intrude,  and  politely 
difturb  me  v/ith  their  fauguiiig  vifits.  In  thefe  mo- 
ments I  pray  the  benediction  of  Heaven  on  thcfe 
v/ho  negleft  to  cvervvhelm  me  with  their  idle  con- 
verfation,  and,  with  the  kindefl  compafiion,  forget 
to  difhurb  me  by  inquiries  iifter  my  health.  A  iin- 
gle  day  in  which  1  caa  re-?in  quielly  at  home, 
without  being  obliged  to  receive  a  vifitor,  and  em- 
ploy my  mind  on  hierary  lubje61s,p.iicrds  me,  not- 
withftanding  my  -M^dily  paui,  more  real  pleafure  ^- 
than  our  women  of  qual  ty  mid  n  .en  of  fafhlon  ever 
felt  from  all  tneir  feai^ings  an  eateriaiaments. 

The  dimir^ution  which  our  fufferings  experience 
in  Sol'tude,  is  in  itfdf  a  confiderable  advan'.age  ;  for 
quietude  of  mind  to  m.en  whofe  duties  d  pend  on 
the  public  voice,  from  whom  an  indefatigable  ac- 
tivity is  exafted,  and  wh  ^  unavoidably  pafs  their 
days  in  themidft  of  ccn.iaued  anxieties,  is  in  eik(51 
tranfcendent  fehcity. 

The  mind,  whether  of  the  young  or  c  f  the  old, 
no  longer  feels  the  fear  of  being  alone  when  it  is  ca- 
pable of  occupying  itf^lf  in  privacy  cn  fome  ufeful 
or  agreeable  lubjecL. 

If  the  temper  fhould  be  foured  by  ill  humor, 
we  fhculd  endeivor  to  create  a  diverikn  of  the 
mind  by  reading  with  fome  fixed  ar.d  particular  dc- 
fign  ;  and  it  is  impollible  to  read  without  derivi':g 
■fome  advantage,  provided  Vv^e  have  a  pen  or  pencil 
ready  to  mark  the  nev/  ideas  as  they  occur,  or  the 
obfervations  which  illufirate  and  confirm  ihcfe  we 
already  polTefs ;  for  unlefs  we  apply  what  we  learn- 
to  our  own  difpofitions,  c  r  the  characters  of  other 
men,  f  udy  of  every  kind  foon  becom.es  fatiguing  : 
exercife,  however,  will  eaf4y  lead  to  this  habit,  and 
then  reading  is  perhaps  one  of  the  moft  fure  and 
certain  remedies  againfl  lalTitude  and  difccntent. 

The  mind  having  once  acquired  the  habit  of  fix-* 


Tk  Influence  of  SoUtticIe.  51 

ing  its  attention,  is  always  capable  of  driving  away 
nnpleafnnt  and  painful  ideas.  The  fight  of  a  nobl^ 
and  interefiing  obje<5]:,the  ftudy  of  an  ufeful  f-isrcCy 
a  pidure  in  which  the  various  revrlutiors  of  fxicty 
are  hiftorickdly  difphyed,  and  the  progn-fs  made  \\\ 
any  particular  arr,  iigreeably  rivet  attention ,  and 
banifii  the  forrows  of  the  mind. 

Pleaftires  of  this  defcription,  it  is  certain,  great- 
ly  tranfcend  all  thofe  which  adminifter  merely  to  the 
fenfes.  I  am  aw.ire,  that  in  fp'ipkir.g  of  the  pleaf- 
ures  of  the  mind,  fublime  meditation,  the  uroFound 
deductions  of  reafon,  and  the  briliiaat  efrufions  of 
fancy  are  in  general  UT:derilocd  ;  but  there  Lire  aifo 
others,  for  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  wh'ch  neither 
extenfive  knowledge  nor  ex'ra^rwiin-^iry  t.dents  are 
neceffary.  Thefe  are  the  pleafures  which  refult  from 
aftivity  and  employmei:t ;  plrafurfs  that  are  eq;  al- 
ly within  the  reach  of  tiie  i/:nor  nt  clown  or  le-^roed 
p  iiofrpher,  and  which  pro'hice  e:^joyinents  no  lefs 
exquifite  than  thcfe  we  firfl  mentioned  :  the  exer- 
tion of  manuallabour,  theref-^-r:^,  ought  never  to  be 
defp^fed.  I  am  acq  iainte  '  wi-  h  geiitU^men  who  are 
initri)6^:e  .l  in  ths  mechanifm  of  their  own  v/atches  ; 
who  are  able  to  work  as  painters,  bckfmiths,  car- 
penters ;  and  who  are  not  only  furnifh^d  with  al- 
mofl  ail  the  tools  proper  t:>  every  brr.nch  of  trade^ 
but  k'^ow  alio  how  to  ufe  th.:m  :  fuch  charaft-rs 
never  fed  tke  lead  difquietude  from  *he  want  of  fo- 
ciety,  and  are  in  c'^'nf':^quence  ti'.e  h>ipp'efi:  of  men. 

The  labors  we  €x':;enence  in  any  art  or  fcience- 
form  the  recreation  cf  it ;  an:^,  when  carried  to  a 
certain  d  gree  of  perf^<Pdon,  render  man  foci  d  with 
himfelf,  nnd  cou  :.terbal-ince  the  r<reatett  cf  m  :ral 
evds.  To  conquer  difficulties  is  to  promote  our.' 
plrafures  ;  and  every  time  cur  eiforts  attiii :  10  a 
Cj^rtaia  point,  from  whence  we  caii  view  with  com- 
placency the  end  of  clir  labors,  the  frul  feeis  an  in- 
cxprefiibla  tranquilitv  and  fuisfi^lion,  and,  beicg- 
contented  withia  itftlf^  fceksiforno  higher  pleafure. 


52  The  Injlumce  of  Solitude* 

T\\e.  enjoyments  of  the  heait  are  within  the 
reach  of  all  men  who,  fres,  eaf}^,  and  alleetionate, 
iire  contented  v/ith  theraielves,  and  pitaled  W'iih^  ; 
thofe  about  them.     Al:is  !  how  much  fuperior/  j 
therefore,  for  this  reaion,  is  the  happinefs  which  a  i 
country  life  affords,  to  that  deceitful  fel'city  which  ! 
is  aiiecied  in  the  courts  of  princes,  and  in  the  brl- 
liant  circles  of  the  g-  eat  and  gay  ;  a  truth  frvercly  j 
felt  by  men  of  worldly  pleafure,  and  ccnfeffed  by 
xheir  frequent  complaints  of  reftleffnefs  and  languor; 
complaints  unknown  among  rhe  vailies  of  the  Alps, 
cr  upon  thcfa  mountains  where  innocence  yet  dwells, 
and  which  no  vifitor  ever  quitted  without  the  trib- 
ute of  a  tear. 

The  fatal  poifon,  however,  which  lurks  beneath 
the  manners  of  luxurious  cities  might  eafiiy  be  a- 
voided,  by  renouncirg  the  infipid  life  in  which  the 
inhabitants  are  engaged.  Virtuous  anions  convey 
tranquiliiy  to  the  ibul ;  and  a  joy  equally  calm  and 
permanent- accompanies  the  man  into  the  clofifl  rc- 
cefTes  cf  retirem.ent,  whcfe  rr.ind  is  fixe:!  upon  dif- 
charging  the  duti.s  of  humanity.  \Vi  h  what  de- 
light aifo  do  we  dwell  upon  tlie  recital  of  cur  fchocl 
adventures,  the  wanton  tricks  cf  our  youth.  The 
hift:>ry  cftr^e  early  pericds  of  cur  lives,  the  remem- 
brance of  our  pl'iys  and  partim-^s,  cf  the  little  pains 
aud  puerik  wiihes  cf  our  infanry,  always,  recall  to 
cur  minds  the  moii:  agreeable  ideas.  Ah !  with 
what  complacent  fmile'=,  v^dth  what  Ibft  regret  a  ven- 
arable- eld  man  turns  his  eyes  upon  the  happy  rcra 
when  the  incarnation  of  youth  animaled  all  his  j  jys, 
when  h,^  entered  into  every  enterprize  vvitli  vigour, 
viv;:ci:y,  and  courage,  when  he  fought  difficulties 
only  to  difpl  ly  his  powers  in  furmounting  them  ! 

Let  us  contrail  the  character  we  formerly  here 
v/ith  that  which  W'e  a<:  preftnt  p, fiefs  :  or,  by  giv- 
ing a  free  range  to  our  iJeas,  let  us  rather  c?fl  our 
thoughts  upon  the  various  events  of  which  we  havs 
been  v.  itndies  upon  th^  mear.s  which  the  Alraigh- 


T7}e  Influence  of  Solitude,  55 

ty  has  thought  proper  to  employ  in  the  exaltation 
or  debalement  of  eiripiras,  upon  the  rapid  progrefs 
which  the  arts  and  lcie::ces  have  made  within  our 
own  remeinVrance,  upon  the  ar^vancement  of  philof- 
ophy  and  the  retreat  of  prejudice,  upon  the  afcen- 
dency  which  itrncnmce  and  fuperft'tion  ftill  main- 
tain, notwithftanding  the  fublime  efforts  of  genius 
to  fupprefs  them,  upon  the  bri  ;ht  iiradiations  of  in- 
telleA,  and  the  moral  depravation  of  the  heart,  and 
we  (hall  foon  perceive  the  clouds  of  languor  diictp- 
pear,  and  tranquility,  peace,  and  good  humor  pre-^ 
vail. 

The  inexpreffible  felicity,  that  variety  of  de- 
lightful enjoyments,  fo  fuperior  to  the  gratifications 
of  fenfe,  which  S  ditude  affords  to  every  reffs^lin^ 
mind,  are  capable  of  being  relifhed  at  every  period 
of  cur  lives  ;  in  the  laft  decay  of  age  as  well  as  in 
the  earlieft  prime  of  youth.  He  v/ho  to  a  vigorous 
cocftitution,  a  free  fpirit,  an  eafy  temper,  has  add- 
ed the  advantages  of  a  cultivated  underftanding,  will 
here  experience,  while  his  heart  continues  pure  and 
his  mind  innocent,  the  highepL  and  mofl:  unalterable 
pleafure.  The  love  of  exercife  animates  all  the  fac- 
ulties of  the  foul,  and  increaf  rs  the  energies  of  na- 
ture. Employment  is  the  firlt  defire  of  every  aftive 
mind.  It  is  the  filent  confcicufnefs  of  the  fupericri- 
ty  of  our  nature,  of  the  force  of  our  intelleftual 
powers,  of  the  high  digr.ity  of  our  character,  which 
infpire  great  fouls  with  that  noble  ardor  v/hich  car- 
ries them  to  the  true  fubUme.  Conftrained  by  the 
duties  of  their  fituation  to  mix  in  the  intercourfes  of 
fociety ;  obliged  to  I'ubmit,  in  fpite  of  their  inclina- 
tion, to  the  frivolous  and  faiiguing  diflipations  of  the 
world,  it  is  in  withdrawing  from  thefe  tumultuous 
fcenes  into  the  filence  of  m.editation^  that  men  be- 
come fenfible  of  the  divine  effervefcence  of  their 
fouls  ;  feel  a  wifh  to  break  their  chains,  to  efcape 
from  the  fervility  of  pleaiure,  and  from  all  the  noify 
and  tumultuous  joys  in  which  they  are  engaged. 


54  Irfuencc  of  Solitude, 

We  never  feel  with  higher  energy  and  fatisfadion, 
with  greater  comfort  and  ccrdiality,  ihat  we  hve, 
think,  are  s^ealbnable  beings,  feif-a6t'.ve.^free,  capable  ■ 
of  the  niod  fubhme  exertior.s,  and  partaking  cf  im- 
mortality, than  in  thcfe  moments  when  wt  Ihnt  the 
door  agaiuft  the  intruhons  of  impertinence  and  fafn- 
ion. 

There  are  few  vexations  fo  infuppcr table  as 
thofe  taftelefs  yifits,  thofe  annoying  partialities,  by 
which  a  life  of  lazy  opulence  and  wanton  pleafare 
is  occupied.  "  My  thcughts,"  fays  Rouileaiv,  "  will 
oriy  c  :iiie  when  they  pleafe,  and  not  when  I  cho?fe.'* 
Obliged,  therefore,,  to  vv;ut  for  thdr  arrival,  the  in- 
trufion  of  a  "  ranger,  or  even  the  vifit  of  an  acqu^dnt- 
ance  by  wh  m  he  was  not  intmiat-ly  known,  was 
s.lways  dreadful  to  him.  It  was  lor  this  reaica 
iilone,  that  t!:is  extraorrlinary  ch^r^Oc-r^  who  feldrm 
experienced  an  hour  of  tranquility  unaccompanied 
by  pain,  felt  fuc^^  petulent  indignation  againil  the 
importunate  civilities  and  em.pty  compliments  of 
common  conv  Tlation,  while  he  enjoyed  the  ration- 
al intercourfe  of  (enfible  and  well  informed  minds 
Vvith  the  higheft  delighr .* 

How  foon,al  -  s!  the  dignityof  thehuman  charac- 
ter becomes  debafeJ  by  affociating  with  low  and  lit- 
tle minds !  How  many  rayc  of  thought,  precicus 
rays  5  emanating  immediately  fi-om  the  Deity  upon 
(he  mind  of  man,  are  extingnifhed  by  the  nox'cus 
vapours  cf  ftagnated  life  !  But  it  is  meditation  and 
reflection  that  mufc  give  them  birth,  elevate  them  to 
the  heights  of  geniuf-v^ake  them  fubfiflent  with  the 
nature  of  the  human  mind,  and  conformable  to  the 
Ipirit  of  the  human  chara<fter, 

Vir'ues  to  which  the  foul  caotiot  raife  itfelf, 
even  in  the  moft  amiable  of  all  focieties,  ar^  Ire- 


*  **  I  never  couii  cnduie,"  fays  Rouffeau,  "  the  empty  and  un- 
meaning complinjcnts  of  common  converfation  j  but  from  converfa- 
tions  ufeful  or  ingenious,  I  have  alwajs  felt  the  higheft  pkalorC;  ani 
\kave  ncrer  refefed  to  raj^ake  cf  thecn»" 


The  Influence  cf  Solitudes  55 

^.uently  produced  by  Solitude.  Separated  by  dif- 
tance  from  ur  fii  nds,  we  feel  currelves  deprived 
of  the  eomp'^ny  of  thjfe  who'  are  deareft  to  our 
hearis  ;  and.  to  relieve  tha  dreary  void,  we  afpire 
to  tHe  moft  fubli.iie  efforts,  and  adopt  the  bcldeit 
rcfolutions.  On  the  contr -irv,  w:.ile  we  are  under 
the  pr()te£lln.e  care  of  frienc'iliip  and  of  love,  while 
thi€ir  kind  offices  fupply  all  our  w^.nts,  and  their 
affectionate  embraces  lock  us  eternally  in  their  arms^ 
we  f  orget,  in  the  bLi'^dirnmcnts  of  fuch  a  ilate, 
almoil  t'le  faculty  cf  felf-motion,  lofe  fight  cf  the 
powers  cf  acting  from  ourltlves,  and  feldom  rcflcd 
that  we  may  be  reduced  to  the  neceility  cf  fuppcrt- 
ing  ourfelves  under  the  adverfides  of  life.  To  grrard 
2.gainft  this  eve  n,,  therefore,  it  is  proper,  by  retir- 
ing into  Solitude,  to  experience  and  rely  upon  the 
ftrength  of  our  own  powers.  The  foul,  wtake^.ed 
by  the  fto:  ms  of  life,  then  acquires  new  vigor,  fixeS: 
the  iteady  eye  of  fortitude  on  t;ie  frowns  of  aiver- 
fity,  and  learns  to  elude  the  threatening  rocks  on 
which  the  happinefs  of  vulgar  minds  fo  frequently 
is  wrecked.  He  who  devotes  his  days  to  Sclitudey 
finds  refources  within  himfelf  of  which  he  had  no 
idea,  while  p  -ilofophy  infpires  him  wiih  courage  to 
fuiiain  the  moff  rigorous  fhocks  of  fate. 

The  difpofition  of  man  becorr.es  more  firm,  bin 
opinions  more  determined  and  correcSt,  when,  urged 
by  the  tumults  of  life,  he  refle£^s,  in  the  quietude 
of  his  heart,  on  his  own  nature  and  the  manners 
of  tlie  world.  The  conuitution  cf  a  verf^.tile  and 
undecided  ch.iracl^r  prco  eds  entirely  from  that  in- 
tellecluai  weaknefs  which  prevents  the  mind  from 
thinking  for  iiitlf.  Such  char:<ft-rs  conuilt  upon 
every  cccafnn  the  oracle  cf  public  opinion,  fo  infal-- 
lible  in  their  ideas,  before  they  know  what  they 
^  ought  to  thiidc,  or  m  wh.ar  man:.-^er  their  judgment 
.ffiould  be  formed,  cr  their  conduei:  regulated. 

Weak  minds  alwavs  conceive  it  mofi  fafe  (0 
^dopt  the  fentiments  ot  the  ra.ultitude.   The}^  nerer 


^6  The  Inf  iicnce  of  Bolitude. 

venture  an  opinion  upon  any  fubje£l  until  the  major- 
ity have  decided.  'J'hefe  decilions,  whether  upon 
men  or  things,  they  i^^plicitly  foUow,  without  giv- 
ing themfelv-^^s  the  trouble  to  inquire  who  is  right,, 
cr  on  which  fide  the  truth  lies.  The  fp'rit  of  truth 
2nd  1  -veof  equity,  indeed,  are  Oulv  to  be  expefted 
from  thofe  wh  .«  are  fearlefs  of  hving  alone.  Men 
of  difTipated  minds  are  nev..r  the  prote<fi:ors  of  the 
w^e^.k,  or  the  zvengers  of  the  opprelTed.  Are  the 
various  and  powerful  hofls  of  fools  and  knaves  your 
en  .-mies  ?  Are  you  injured  in  your  property  by  in- 
juilice,  or  in  ycur  fame  by  calumny  ?  You  muft  not 
hope  for  redrefs  from  light  characfters,  or  for  fup. 
port  from  men  of  diilipation  ;  for  they  only  repeat 
the  v  ice  of  error,  and  propagate  the  fallacies  of 
prejudice. 

To  live  in  Solitude,  to  feel  fiuvfelves  alone,, 
cnly  inipires  fear,  inafmuch  as  it  contributes  to  ex-^ 
tinguifh  one  corporeal  power  by  giving  birth  to 
a  iother.  The  powers  of  the  mind,  on  the  contra- 
ry, u!:igument  in  proportion  as  they  become  more 
concentrated,  v/hen  'lo  perfon  is  united  to  us,  or 
ready  to  afford  proteftijn.  'I'o  live  undiliurbed, 
to  mitigate  the  fulfering  of  prefent  imprefficns,  to 
rend  T  mind  fuperior  to  the  accidents  of  hfe,  and 
to  gain  fufficient  intrepidity  to  oppofe  the  danger  of 
advernty,  it  is  rolblutely  neceflary  to  live  aione. 
How  fnoo':hly  il.)ws  the  ftream  of  life  when  we 
have  no  anxiety  to  inquire  *'  Who  did  this  V* 
'"Who  laid  t  rat  f**  How  many  mi ferable  prejudices, 
and  ftiil  more  contemptible  pp.ilions,  has  one  lerious 
reiie<Sl:ion  fubdued  \  How  quickly,  in  fuch  a  fitua- 
tion,  thit  il  wiih,  fhameful,  and  idolatrous  venera- 
tion for  every  iinworrhy  oV]t^  difappears !  With 
what  noble  fpirlt  the  votary  of  Solitude  fearlefsly 
difdains  thofe  chara£lers  who  conceive  that  high 
birth  and  illuftrious  delcent  confer  a  privilege  to  ty- 
rannize over  inferior  men,  to  whom  they  frequently 
afford  fo  many  reafons  to  held  them  m  contempt. 


Tl)e  Influence  of  Soiitml:.  57 

An  ingenious  and  celebrated  obfervrr  of  mea 
and  things  informs  us,  it  is  in  leifureand  retirement 
alone,  th.it  the  foul  exalts  itfeir  into  a  fubliirt.e  iu- 
penoriiy  over,  the  accidents  of  life,  becomes  indif- 
ferent to  the  good  or  evil  it  may  experience,  the 
p:-aife  or  cenfure  it  mav  receive,  the  life  it  may  en- 
joy,  cr  even  the  death  it  may  fuifer. — It  is  in  Soli- 
tude alone  that  thcfe  noble  and  rv:li:jed  ideas,  thole 
profjund  principles  and  unerring  ?xioms,  which 
form  and  fupp-rt  every  great  charafter,  are  devel- 
oped. Evei::  p:ibfophy  itielf,  continues  this  excel- 
lent phil  fcpher  in  his  obfervaticns  upon  Cicero, 
and  ihofe  d^ep  theories  upon  which  the  fublima 
conduct  of  the  Ibatefinan  is  founded,  ana  which  en- 
ables him  to  perform  with  excellence  the  ia:portaiit 
duties  with  which  he  is  charged^  are  formeil  iu  the 
filenceof  S:li  ude,  in  Ibmedircuct  reti.ement  from 
the  great  theatre  of  tha  world. 

As  Solitude,  therefore,  not  only  gives  firmnefs 
to  the  characbers,  and  propriety  to  the  fentiirents, 
of  men,  but  leads  the  mind  to  a  true  degree  of  ele- 
vation  ;  fo  I'.kewife  there  is  no  ciher  fituatlon  iii 
which  we  fo  foon  acquire  the  important  knowledge 
of  curfelvcs. 

Retirement  connffts  us  more  clofely  Vv-ith  cur 
orm  bofjm^,  and  we  livf  in  habits  of  the  iiri£l?fc 
intimacy  cr-ly  with  ciurfelves.  It  is  certaicly  polli- 
ble  f:r  men  to  bo  delibere^te  and  v/ife,  even  amid 
all  the  tumultG  of  the  world,  efr^cially  if  their  prin- 
ciples be  v/eh  fixed  before  they  e^ter  on  the  flage  of 
life  ;  but  it  ism.uch  more  diflicult  to  prefer ve  ao  112- 
tegr'ity  of  conducTt  amidf:  tne  corruptions  of  Ibci^ty 
than  in  the  fimplicit3'-  of  8  'litudo.  Hl  w  many  mea 
pleafe  cniy  by  their  faults,  and  reccnnnend  rhem- 
lelves  only  by  their  vices  !  How  many  profligate 
villair.s  and  iinpriicipled  adventurers,  of  inhnuating^ 
ma-aners,  are  well  received  by  ibciety,  only  becauic 
tr.ey  have  learoed  the  art  of  /cidminifcering  to  the 
folfe?,  the  we'Akiiefles,,  the  vices  of  thofs  who  give 


5  S  Tf:e  Influence  of  Solitude,  | 

the  lead  to  fafhloa  1  How  is  it  poflible  (hit  the  mind, 
intoxicated  with  the  fumes  of  that  incenfe  which 
Flattery  burns  to  its  honor,  Ttiould  be  capable  of  | 
knowing  or  appreciatirg  the^  charates  of  men  ! 
But,  on  the  contrary,  in  the  iilsnce  and  tranquillity 
of  retirement,  whe  her  we  are  led  by  inclination  to 
the  iiudy  of  curlelves,  awakened  to  refle61:i.':n  by 
a  fenfe  of  mifery,  or  compelled  to  think  ierioufly 
en  ourfitu'ition,  and  to  examine  the  inward  com- 
plexion of  the  heart,  v/e  can  leara  what  we  are,  and 
what  we  ought  to  be. 

How  many  new  and  ufefal  difcoveries  may  be 
made  by  cccafi  ;naily  forcing  ourfelves  from  the  vor- 
tex of  the  world  to  the  calm  enjoyments  of  fcudy 
and  reflectlcn  ?  To  acccmplifh  this  end,  it  is  only 
neceilary  to  commune  ferioully  with  our  hear; s, 
and  to  examine  our  condu(fi:  with  candor  and  im- 
partiality, I'he  man  of  worldly  pleafure,  indeed, 
has  reafon  to  (bun  this  felf  examination,  confcinus 
that  the  r-fult^  of  the  inquiry  would  be  extremely 
unfavorc^ble  :  fjVhe  who  only  judges  of  himfeif  by 
the  flatterirg  opinion  which  others  have  been  pleat- 
ed to  exprefs  of  his  ch?r;^6ler,  will  in  fach  a  fcrutiny 
behold  with  furprz^,  that  he  is  the  mift-ral.le  flave 
of  fafhion,  habit,  and  public  cpinion,  fubmitt'.ng 
with  laborious  diligence,  and  the  utmoft  pofTible 
grace,  to  the  exr:6i:lc  ns  rf  pi  Rtenefs,  and  theau.hcr- 
itative  demands  of  ellabhfliei  ceremony ;  never  ven- 
turing <-o  C3  :trad'ft  theimp^riou,  voice  of  f  .fhion, 
howcvcr  i'-nfeiels  and  abfurd  its  dilates  may  appear; 
obfequioufiy  following  the  example  cf  others,  giv- 
ing credit  to  every  thirg  they  f:^y,  doirg  every  thing 
they  do,  and  rot  daring  to  ccniemn  tncfe  purfuits 
which  every  one  feems  fo  highly  to  approve.  If 
fuch  a  chara6l  r  pofT.  fs  that  de  cree  cf  candor  he 
ought,  he  will  not  only  perceive,  but  acknowl  '-dge, 
that  an  infinite  nuT^ber  of  his  daily  thcughts  and  ac- 
tions are  info' red  by  a  bafe  fear  of  himfjl^\  or  arife 
from  a^crviis  complaifance  to  others  j  that  in  the 


The  Influence  cf  Sdliitide* 


company  r,f  princes  anci  ftateiinen  he  only  feeks  to 
flatter  th:ir  vaaiiies,  and  indulge  thsir  caprices; 
that  by  his  devotion  to  polltcners,  he  fu'omits  to  be- 
come the  miniP.er  of  tneir  vices,  rath:r  than  ciFsr 
them  thr,  fmalir::'.  con 'r?.d-clion,  or  hazard  an  opin- 
ion that  is  I'  kely  t3  ^^ive  them  the  leaft  difpieariire. 
Whoever  w.th  calm  couiideratior:.  views  th's  terrify- 
ing plclure,  w-11  feel  ia  th?  iilenc  emotions  cf  his 
heart  the  nec-ility  of  occafionally  retiring  i.ito  Sol- 
itu-'e,  andfeeking  fociety  with  m^n  of  nobler  feati- 
ments  and  purer  principles.  ^  . 

The  violent  alternatives  cf  pleafure  and  pain, 
of  hope  and  fear,  of  content  and  mortiii'-  iition,  in- 
ceflantly  torment  the  mi  ad  that  has  not  courage  to 
rife  fupericr  to  tiie  influence  of  the  objecls  of  fenfe. 
llie  virtues  fly  from  the  habitation  of  an  hearc  tr.at 
yields  itfelf  to  firil  impreifions,  of  an  heart  that  is  for 
ever  obedient  to  the  feelings  of  the  moment,  and 
incapable  of  exerting  a  dominion  ever  them.  The 
virtues  alfo  ceafe  to  dwell  in  the  bofonis  of  the 
wcrldly,  who,  f  Ibwingthe  exa'ijple  of  the  times, 
are  guided  in  all  their  actions  by  ficiLler  motives, 
and  d'.re£i:=d  to  every  end  by  the  mean  conlideration 
of  ielf-interefl  either  immediate  cr  remote.  To  ex- 
erdfe  even  virtue  i' felf  with  advantage  and  efTcft, 
it  is  ueceffary  to  retire  into  Solitude  ;  to  avoid  the 
impediments  which  the  accidents  of  the  p-iifling  day 
may  create  ;  to  e3:imate,  by  filent  examination,  the 
true  value  of  things,  andthere:d  m^rit  of  human 
a<51:iaas.  Tha  mind,  debafei  by  the  corruptioas  of 
the  w  )rld,  has  no  idea  of  reUnquifhing  the  pr .  fped 
of  prefent  benefit,  and  making  a  noble  facrifice  of 
glory  and  of  fortune.  Th^y  never  appreciate  any 
action  by  its  intrinfic  merit  ;  but  condud  all  their 
cdculations  upon  a  vile  notion  of  lu:re,  a^.d  only 
affume  the  garb  of  virtue  as  a  mean  of  fnatching 
ibme  poor  adva^itage,  obtaining  fome  paltry  honors, 
or  gaining  fome  ferviceable  credit  :  to  thoie  who, 
from  th$ir  pov/er  and  fuperiority,  mighty  if  they 


6o  The  hjiucnce  of  Solitiuk. 

were  equally  bafe  anJ  cor.temptible,  prejudice  their 
intermits,  they  pay  a  fl:rvilo  court,  flatter,  lie,  cal- 
umniate, and  cringe,  and  depart  only  to  commit 
new  bafenels  elfewhere. 

Man  difcovers  with  deeper  penetration  the  ex- 
tent and  natur'e  of  the  paiTions  by  which  he  is 
fwayed,  when  he  n^fle^ts  cn  their  power  in  the  calm- 
nefs  and  filence  ct' Solitude,  v^here  the  foul,  being 
lefs  frequently  fufpended  between  hope  and  rear, 
ads  with  greater  freedom.  How  virtuous,  alas  ! 
do  we  all  become  under  the  preiTure  of  calamity  1 
How  fubmliiive,  ho V/ indulgent,  how  kind  is  man, 
when 'he  iinger  of  God  chaflifes  his  fraihies,  by 
Tendering  his  hopes  deluuva,  and  his  fchemes  abor- 
tive ;  when  the  Almighty  Pov/er  humbles  human 
pride,  converts  our  v/:fdomi into  follyjour  profound- 
efc  cou^fels  into  nTAnifefl  and  ilrikinr^  initances  of 
madnefs  !  At  Inch  a  moment  the  carefles  of  a  child, 
the  moft  diftant  civility  from  inferiors,  afford  us 
the  higheil  comfort.  The  fcene,  however,  prefsnt- 
ly  changes  ;  we  vievv  misfortune  u^.der  a  different 
afp-(f}:,cur  foftnefs  d'es  a\vay,our  fufferir.gs  decreafe, 
the  foul  begins  to  rife  from  its  dejedion,  vre  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  ii^s  faculties,  become  indifferent  to 
every  external  objc  d,  and,  feeling  the  extent  of  its 
powers,  difcover  our  fuperi  -^rity  over  all  rriofe  cir- 
cum^'lances  v/hich  be-^ore  gave  inquietude  to  fear, 
and  alarm  to  v/eakneis. 

Sheltered  in  the  retreats  of  Sohtude  from  the 
extremes  cf  fortune,  and  lefs  exp-  fed  to  the  intoxi- 
cadcn  of  fuccrfs,  or  the  depreffi  in  of  ddappoint- 
jr.ent,  bfe  f};lide3  eafiiy  along  1  ke  the  fhadcw  of  a 
paffiag  cloud.  Adverfity  need  not  here  intrude,  to 
teach  us  how  infgnificant  we  rre  in  the  eyes  of 
God,  how  helpk-fs  without  his  affifiance,  how  much 
cur  unchecked  pride  poitbns  the  happinefs  cf  life, 
torments  the  h -art,  and  becomes  the  endlefs  and 
increafiiig  fourc^  cf  human  mifer^^ :  for  in  theealm 
regior.s  -C'f  retiremeatj  -undiuurb^^d  by  treacherous 


The  hjiuencc  of  Sclitude,  6 1 

f^ndnefs,  or  groundlcfs  hate,  if  even  hope  fhould 
dilappear,  and  every  comfort-  va^iiili  from  our  view^, 
\7-  are  ill  capable  of  ru'/.m^tnag  to  the  llroke  of 
tUte  wi-h  p?tlence  ar.d  religT^atio'-^ 

Let  ev-ry  one,  thtrefcre,  wlio  wifhes  to  think 
with  dig.iity,  or  live  with  eafe,  feek  the  retreats  of 
Solitade,  and  eater  into  friendly  intercourfe  with 
his  own  h-''art.  How  fmall  a  portion  of  true  ph:l- 
cibphy,  with  an  enlightened  under-landing,  will  ren- 
der us  humble  and  compliant  ?  But  in  the  mil^s  of 
prvjuiice,  dazzled  by  the  intell:ci:uil  glimmer  of 
tV.Ue  lights,  every  one  mif-akes  the  true  path,  and 
fseks  for  happi'isfsin  the  (hades  of  darknefs  and  the 
labyrinths  cf  cbfcurity.  The  habits  of  re'irement 
and  tranquillity  can  alone  enable  us  to  make  a  juft 
eilimate  of  m.-n  and  th"ngs,  and  it  is  by  renouncing 
;dl  the  prep.^ffdiicns  \^  hich  the  corruptions  of  fociety 
have  iinplanted  in  the  mind,  that  vv^e  make  the  firft 

;  advances  towards  the  r^ilorition  of  reafon,  and 

t  the  attainment  of  felirity. 

Solitude  will  aiibrd  us  this  advantage,  if  when 
we  are  there  alo':e  before  God,  and  far  retired 
from  the  obfervauon  of  men,  the  filsizt  language  of 
confcie^ce  Ciev/s  to  us  the  great  imperfedion  of  cur 
chara&rs,  and  the  many  citnculties  we  have  to 
fiirmount  before  we  c:in  attain  the  e^^cellecc^  of 
w^iich  cur  nature  is  c  ipable.  In  fodety  men  mu- 
tualiy  deceive  e.ich  ot'ier  :  they  make  a  parade  of 
learning,  affect  fentiments  which  t  <ty  do  not  poliefs^ 
dazzh  t'le  obfervcr  by  borrowed  rays,  and  in  the 
end  miflead  themf^lves  b^rhe  iihifl'3ns  which  th^y 
raiic.  But  in  Sohtude,  far  removed  from  the  guile 
of  (l;ittery  and  fallh-od,  acc-)ir.panied  by  truth  and 
followed  by  virtue,  the  mind  enters  into  a  clofe  ac- 
quaintance with  itkrif.  forms  its^u.lgmeni  with  great- 
er accuracy,  and  feels  t'-^e  inefdmahle  value  of  fm-  • 
centy  and  fmglenefs  of  heart.  Here  the  p:iieirion 
of  thefe  quali'jes  can  never  prove  injurious ;  for  i;i 
th^  retreats  of  Soliiude,  moral  excsilencs  is  not  aa 


6 1  The  Lijiuence  of  SoUluck, 

object  of  either  ridicule  or  cort^mpt.  We  here 
compare  the  falfe  appearances  of  the  world  wi*h  ths 
reality  of  things,  and  perceive  the  advcnt/g'TS  they 
feomeJ  toprcmife,  ?,.:d  the  fpccioiiS  virtues  hey  ap- 
peared to  pcilels,  vaniili  lize  a-ry  Y?r^::\r.  l'i:e 
pride  cf  human  wit,  the  iaile  ro-cliiii  ^hr?, 
themidakes  of  vjinity,  and  tlm  w-ak  n  oi'the 
heart,  are  devvlcp^d  to  r:;;e  eye  of  impartiality. 
All  that  is  imperfeft  in  our  fiireft  virtu -s,  in  our 
luolimefc  conceptions,  in  oi:-r  molt  generous  :  £i::ons, 
?dl  the  cltentations  of  felf-bve,  ^-re  here  exh  ibited 
ini heir  namral  forms,  is  it  Doili'jie  toacquTeib 
perfeft  a  kn  .-^wle  'ge  cf  ou'-.r  1.  ,-  :  in  the  world,  a- 
midi!:  the  biiijde  of  r-ann-ds,  aad  among  the  increa- 
fmg  da:ap;ers  cf  facial  hfe  ?  | 
To  iubduethe  dangerous pafli:^-n5  and  pernicions  ' 
iaclinaticns  whica  agitate  and  m  ilead  ihe  hearr,  it 
is  neceffary  to  -lix  t  le  artmtion  on  other  ohjecls, 
and  turn  oar  aitarhments  to  more  laudable  pur- 
fuits  ;  but  Sohtude  is  the  only  fituation  ii  which 
new  fentiments  and  new  i  'eas,  ariling  from  inex- 
liauftible  r-.-fources^  infril  ti^t-mleives  into  the  mind  : 
here  the  foul  a£ls  wi  h  perfect  freedom  in  every 
dire£lion,  and  exerts  all  the  force  and  energy  of 
which  it  is  iuf:eptible.  And  as  Solitude  to  the  idle 
may  mitigate  the  i'  temn:  ranee  cf  defire  ;  fa,  ca 
the  contrary,  to  the  aaive  it  afiv^rds  a  complete 
vi61:ory  over  all  the  moil  irregular  in;friations  cf 
the  heart. 

Snatched  from  theiriufions  cf  fcciety,  from  the 
fnares  of  the  wcrld,  and  pl::red  in  ihe  fecurity  of 
retirement,  we  viev/  ev-ry  of^-.ct  in  its  true  form, 
as  well  under  the  diflracrions  of  m'']f"—  nne,  as  in 
the  pangs  of  ficknefs  and  in  the  :  f  death. 

The  vanity  and  emptintis  of  all  tn  _a  ^  :  h^antages 
■which  we  exped  from  external  cbjects,  I'jpear  ia 
full  view,  and  we  difcover  the  necoffity  cf  curbing 
the  extravagance  cf  our  thoughts,  and  ihe  licen- 
tiou&ef§  gt  Qvs  deOres*   I'ae  veil  of  falfe  appear- 


The  InJIiience  of  Solitude*  63 

nnce  is  r3:r.oved ;  and  he  who  in  the  worlil  \Tas 
railed  as  much  above  ethers,  as  by  his  faults  and 
vices  iie  ought  to  have  fuak  beneath  the?n,  here 
perceives  the  iniperfeftrrns  which  flattery  had  con-- 
ce'iied,  and  which  a  crowd  of  miferable  flaves  had 
perhaps  the  baieneis  and  ccwariice  entirely  to  jai- 
tify.  "  .  ^  ^ 

To  acquire  durable  plr/rfiirrs  and  true  feix'ty,. 
it  is  neceilary  to  adopt  the  judicicns  and  r3no!:al 
philoibphy  which  conliders  life  in  a  ferious  point  cf 
view,  courts  enjoyments- which  neither  time  nor  ac- 
cident can  deftroy,  and  looks  with  an  eye  cf  pity 
on  the  rjupid  vulg..ir,  agitating  their  n^inds  and  ror- 
menting  their  hearts  in  fplendid  miieries  and  cidld- 
ifh  converfations.  Thcfe  how^cver,  on  the  contra- 
ry, who  have  no  knowle-lge  of  their  own  heans, 
w^ho  have  no  haiyits  of  refltction,  no.  means  cf  em- 
ployment, w^':o  have  not  perfevered  in  virtr.e,  nor 
are  a':la  to  hiilen  to  the  voice  cf  rcafon,  have  noth- 
ing to  hcp2  from  S--l'tude  :  their  joys  ?.re  all  anni- 
hikted  wiien  the  blood  has  1  .ft  its  warnnh,  whrrj 
the  fenfes  are  blunted,  and  their  powers  diminiflied : 
on  exp?ricnc:r..fj  the  ieafl:  inconvenience,  the  moft 
irifiii-ig  reverfe  of  fortun-r',  they  fall  into  the  decpefi: 
dilirrfs,  the  moft  horrid  ideas  fill  the^r  minds,  aiid 
they  are  tormented  wilh  ail  the  agitations  cf  au 
alarmed  imagination. 

We  have  hitherto  only  pointed  out  one  portion 
cf  the  general  advantages  of  Sclitude ;  there  are,^ 
liowever,  many  others  which  touch  men  more  near, 
ly.  Ah  !  wh  ■)  has  not  experienced  its  kind  influ- 
ence in  the  adverfr ies  cf  hfe  ?  Who  has  not  in  tha 
moment  cf  convalc-fcence,  in  the  hour  of  mehr.cho- 
ly,  in  the  ag3  when  feparation  or  d  rath  has  depri- 
ved the  heart  ef  the  intercourles  of  friendfhip,  fought 
relief  under  its  ibiutary  (hades  ?  Happy  is  the  be- 
ing who  is  fsniible  of  the  advantages  of  a  religious 
retirement  from  the  world,  of  a  facred  tranquillity, 
wkere  all  the  benefits  to  be  d«rivei  from  Ibcie-y 


64  InfMencs  cf  Solifmh. 

imprefs  thenifelves  more  derply  in  the  heart,  \7here 
ei^ery  hour  is  cop.fecrated  to  thepra^li  e  of  the  mild 
and  peaceful  virtues,  ?.nd  wliere  every  man,  when 
he  is  on  the  bed  of  der.th,  v/iOits  he  had  lived  !  But 
thefe  :idvan!ages  become  maich  more  cor  fpieuous 
when  we  cornpire  tlie  modes  of  thought  whi^h  em- 
ploy the  mind  oP  a  folitary  ph'lofopher  v/ith  thofe 
of  a  worldly  fen ru?.rui: ;  the  tirelbme  and  tumul<ii- 
cu^  liie  of  the  one  with  the  {"oft  tranquillity  cf  the 
other ;  when  V7e  oppolc  the  fe:ir  and  horror  v/hi:h 
iiiilarb  tlie  death-bed  of  rhe  worldly-minded  man 
with  the  p?ace*hle  and  eal'y  exit  of  tncfe  pi-^us  fouls 
who  fubmit  with  refigaaiion  to  the  will  of  Heaven. 
It  is  at  this  awful  aioment  that  vve  feci  hDw  impor- 
tant it  h  to  turn  the  eye  inv/ardly  up'>i2  ourfelve?, 
at^d  to  held  a  religious  c.:>:nmunion  vviih  our 
Creator,  if  we  would  b^ar  ihe  fait: rings  of  life 
with  dignity,  and  the  pains  of  death  with  eafe. 

Solitude  air)rds  us  t'\e  mofl  incoateliible  ad- 
\i^nta2:e3  under  the  greatall  adverfities  of  Hfe,  The 
convalrfcent,  th^  unfortunate,  the  mafanthrcp?, 
here  find  equal  relief ;  their  tortured  fouls  here  find 
a  bal  11  for  the  deep  an  .l  painful  v/ouads  th:-y  have 
received,  and  foon  regain  their  priuine  health  and 
vigour. 

Sicknefs  and  p.fflvftion  would  fly  with  h error 
from  the  retreats  of  Sclitul=,  if  th  ir  friendly  fnades 
did  not  affjrd  them  t  .at  coi:ibhitlon  'v\^hich  they 
are  unahle  to  obtain  in  the  temples  of  pleafure. 
The  fubtile  vapour  wiiich  fenfuality  and  intcxica- 
tion  fhjd  upon  tlie  objefts  t:iat  furround  a  ilate  of 
heal: h and  happinefs,  entirely  dif-'ppears  ;  and  all 
thole  charms,  which  mbhii  rather  in  imagination 
than  in  reahty,  bfe  their  power.  To  th^  happy, 
every  ohj  ;£l  wea';s  the  delightful  cr.lour  of  the  rcfe ; 
but  to  the  miierable,  all  is  black  and  dreadful.  1  he 
two  conditions  are  equally  in  the  extreme ;  but 
neither  of  them  difcover  the  eirors  into  v/h:ch  they 
Ere  betra3'ed3  until  the  moment  when  the  curtaki 


Yne  InfufiKC  of  ZcFitudf, 

drain  ;  when  tie  {cens  changes,  the  illufion  is  difli- 
pated.  Both  cf  thcxTi  ei  j  ">y  the  dream,  while  the 
uaderKanding  cor.tinues  filent  and  ablbrbed.  The- 
ore  feels  that  God  empk^ys  h's  attention  to  th^ 
prefervation  of  his  creature^;,  even  when  he  fees- 
them  the  mofl  abandoned  and  prcfiigate ;  the  ethers 
devote  then:f:-lves  to  thofe  vanities  and  pleafares 
wiih  which  the  fafnions  of  the  world  intoxicate  the 
mir.d,  even  although  at  the  very  moment  they  re- 
flect ferioully  upon  ihemf/lves,  upon  thdr  prefcnt 
f.tuaticn,  tneir  future  deitiny,  and  the  means  by 
which  alone  they  can  be  conducted  to  perfect  feh- 
city. 

Kow  unhappy  ihould  we  be  if  the  Divine  Pro- 
vidence w^ere  to  grant  us  every  thing  we  defire  ■ 
Ev=n  under  the  very  afiiiclions  by  which  man  con- 
ceives all  the  happinefs  of  his  life  annihilated,  God 
perhaps  purpofes  fomething  extraordinary  in  his  fa- 
vor. New  circuip.ftances  excite  new  exertions.  In 
Solitude  and  trx-^.nqiv.Uity,  if  we  earnefdy  endeavor 
to  conquer  misfortuae,  the  adiivity  cf  life,  v/hdch, 
until  the  moment  of  adverlTty,  had  bien  perhaps 
fufpended,  faddenly  changes ;  and  the  mind  regains 
its  energy  and  v'gcr,  even  while  it  laments  thefttte 
cf  inaclion  to  which  it  conceives  itfeii  to  hz  irretrie- 
vably reduced. 

iput  there  are  flill  greater  advantages :  if  fcrrow 
f  jrce(iu3  into  Schtude,  patience  anid  perfeveranci 
foon  re!lore  the  f  ul  to  its  natural  trauquillity  and 
joy.  We  ought  never  to  irifpe<5l  the  volume  of  fu- 
tuiity  f  its  p?g:S  will  only  deceiye  us :  on  the  con- 
trary, we  cu^nt  f  r  ever  to  r:-pe?-t  this  expanoien* 
tal  fruth,  this  confolatcry  m:;xira — That  the  objects 
which  men  behcLi  at  a  diftance  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling, iofe  cn  a  nearer  approach,  net  only  ti^eir  dif- 
agrceable  and  ir.enacirg  afpefl,  but  fr-^qoently,  in 
the  event,  produce  the  mcfc  agreeable  and  unex»» 
pe6l  ;d  pleafures.  He  v/r.o  tries  everv  expedient, 
who  bcUly  opp;)f.s  hijiifelf  to  every  dilEcurty,  wip 
(VI  2) 


66> 


The  InJJucnce  of  Solitude* 


ftands  ready  and  inRexibla  tD  every  obiiacle,  who 
neglecl;  no  exertion  within  his  pov/er,  and  relies 
with  confidance  upon  the  affiilanc.e  of  God,  extracts 
ii-om  alHi^bioa  both  its  poifon  and  its  iting,  and  de- 
prives  misfortune  of  its  v:(^')ry. 

Sorrow,  misfor'ran^,  frknefs,  focn  render  us 
eafy  and  f  imillar  with  Sclitude.  How  readily  we  re- 
nounce the  world,  how  indifferent  we  become  to 
all  its  plealiires,  when  the  inGdiotis  eloquence  of  the 
pafTions  is  filenced,  when  we  are  diflr^6led  by  pain, 
cpprefTcd  by  grief,  and  defer  ted  by  all  our  powers  I 
Under  (uch^circutnflanc^s  we  imnaediately  perceive 
the  weaknefs  and  inft ability  cf  thofe  fuccors  which 
the  world  affords  ;  where  pain  is  mix^d  with  every 
joy,  and  vanity  reigns  thrcujjhout.  How  maiiy 
lif^i'ul  truths,  alas  i  does  ficknefs  teach  even  to  kings 
and  rr  inifters,  while  they  fuffer  theinfelves  to  be  de- 
luded and  impofed  upon  by  all  mankind  ! 

Trie  opponunity  which  a  v  detudiaarian  erjoys 
of  employing  his  facuhies  with  facility  and  fuccefs 
in  a  manner  conformable  to  the  extent  of  his  defigns, 
is  undoubte.lly  fhrrt,  and  pufles  rJipidly  away. 
8uch  happinefs  is  the  lot  only  of  thofe  who  enjoy 
robull  health  :  they  slone  can  excbdiB,  "  Time  is  my 
iywn  r' — But  he  who  labors  under  continual  ficknefs 
and  fuiTerin^:,  and  whofe  avocation  depeeds  on  the 
pu\->iic  neceliity  or  caprice,  can  never  fay  t^fHt  he 
has  one  movient  to  himfelf.  He  mufi:  watdi  t  he  Meeting 
hours  as  they  pals,  aad  feize  an  interval  Qf  leifure 
when  and  where  he  can.  Neceffity,  as  v/eil  as  rea- 
fon,  convinces  him,  that  he  miiii:,  in  fpit«  of  his 
daily  fuffrrir-gs,  his  wearied  body,  or  his  haraffed 
m'nd,  firmly  refr/i  his  accuojuhting  troubles  ;  and, 
if  he  would  fave  himfelf  from  becoming:  the  victim 
of  cejfc>ion,  manfully  combat  the  difficulties  by 
which  he  is  att.^cked.  The  more  we  enervat.^  cur- 
ffelves  the  more  v/e  become  the  prey  of  ill  health  ; 
but  a  determined  courage  and  obiiinate  refiftance 
frequently  renovate  cur  powers ;  and  he  who,  ia 


The  Itijfuence  of  Sciitiule,  6  J 

the  of  Solitude,  vigdfi'oufly  wrcRles  with  m:?- 
fortane,  is  certain,  in  the  event,  of  gaining  confid- 
erabie  advantage. 

But  imder  thepain^of  fi:kners,  we  are  apt  too 
eafily  to  liften  to  the  voice  of  indulgence  ;  we  neg- 
le£t  to  exercife  the  powers  we  poilefs  ;  and,  infceiid 
cf  dire£i:ing  the  artentioa  to  thofe  cbjefts  which 
may  divert  diltraftlon  and  ilrangthen  fortitude?,  we 
fofler  fondly  in  our  bofoms  all  the  dil;:greeable  cir- 
cumflances  of  our  fituation.  Th.^  fciii  fn:ks  from 
inquietude  to  inquietude,  lofes  all  its  powers,  abar- 
dons  its  remaioing  reafon,  and  feel?,  from  its  in- 
creafing  agonies  and  fuifcnngs,  no  conirdsnce  in  m 
OWQ  exertion?.  The  vahtudinarivan  (hould  force 
his  mind  to  forget  its  troubles  ;  fnc  iild  endeavor 
to  emerge  from  the  hea^^y  atmofphere  by  which  he 
rs  enveloped  and  deprefTed.    By  thele  exertions  he 

certainly  find  unexpected  relief,  2nd  be  able  to 
accomplifh  that  which  beiore  he  coixeived  to  he 
iinpoffible.  For  this  purpoie,  however,  he  iTiufcfiril 
difmifs  the  phyficians  who  daily  vifir  him  to  afcer- 
taia  the  ftatec-^f  his  health  ;  feeling  h^s  piilfe  with  a 
ludicrous  gravity,  while  they  ferioufly  ihak«  their 
heads,  and  pfrform,  according  to  their  cuftom,  ma- 
ny other  afic6i:ed^  and  rldiculcais  tiicks ;  but  who,, 
from  a  great  inchjaatioa  to  difccv.*r  what  does  not 
exilt,  unhappily  never  difcera  the  fymptoms  that 
are  mofl:  pl'dinly  to  be  feea.  Tkefe  pretenders  to 
fcieace  fe,rve  only  to  alana  the  mind  cf  the  patient, 
to  rivet  hi?  attention  more  clofely  to  thcfe  very  ob* 
jec1:>  which  it  is  his  mtereft  to  forget,  and  to  redou- 
ble his  fiuLrlngs  by  the  benefidal  danger  into  which 
they  raiie  the  moft  trifling  circamftance  of  his  dif- 
order.  lie  ir-iift  alLo  avoid  the  compa'.iy  cf  filfe 
fri?nd%  acd  all  thofe  v/l:o  only  adminiHer  flattery 
to  h", s  frailties.  He  mufl  lenni  to  a^ure  them,  .that 
he  difbelijrv^s  allthat  they  have  told  him;  fbr  if 
the  fe»aiation:5  thsy  excite  ar*  thought  to  have  any 
found-ation  in.truth,  his  own  im'-giaxtion  imincd^** 


68  The  Injiuence  of  BoUtude, 

ately  fupennduces  a  variety  of  gloomy  phantoms 
aiid  Lerrity":ng  chimeras. 

Thus,  under  fiturrions  the  mcfl  ="ifficult  to  fup. 
pert,  there  ftUl  reirrain  ref:ur:es  ?nd  conf  la'ionj 
in  the  bofoin  (.  f  Sclitude.  Are  the  nerves  dernng 
ed  ?  Is  the  head  pained  by  veri.ig  :s  ?  Has  the  mine 
no  longer  any  o.-.wer  to  tfdr.k,  the  eye  to  read,  th< 
hand  to  write  ?  Has  iv  be ccaie  phylically  impDiIible 
to  exercife  any  c  f  the  funcdons  of  the  foul  ?  In  fuch 
a  fiiuation  we  r^xiZ:.  kam  to  V(:ge'ate,'^  faid  one 
of  the  mOil  enl'ghtcn-td  phikdcphers  of  Germanyj 
when  he  beheld  me  at  Hanover,  in  a  conditicii 
which  rendered  rne  incapable  cf  adopting  any  oth-^ 
er  refource.  ()  Garve  1  v/'th  what  rapture  I  threw 
myf  if  into  your  ar:7)s  i  Wirh  what  tranfports  I 
heard  y.^i  fpe?di  !  v/hen  you  ihewed  me  the  necef- 
fity  of  le:-rr.ing  to  fupport  myfclf  under  my  accu- 
mulite'.^  ralamities,  by  cooviacing  me  that  you  had 
exper  .  n^:::  equal  fuiferings,  and  had  been  ableta 
pradife  the  leiibos  which  y^u  taught. 

Tne  fablime  Mendelibrm,  durirg  a  certain  pe-^ 
ricd  of  his  life,  was  frequendy  obliged  to  retire^ 
when  dircouifiDs?  on  philofophical  fubje£fs,  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  bd  ti^g.  hi  thefe  moaienrs  it  wa*; 
his  caftoin  to  nrgbdi:  all  ftudy,  to  banifh  labar  of 
th'.Aight  entirely  from  his  mind.  Kis  phyfician  one 
d?.y  aiked  him,  How  then  do  you  employ  ycur; 
ti.11%  if  you  do  not  think  ?"  "I  retire  to  the  win* 
dow  c  f  my  c  amber,  and  count  the,  tiles  upon  the 
Toof  of  my  neighbor's  hcuCe/* 

Witboiit  thy  tranquil  wifrlom,  O  my  belovcvi 
IMe^d:  bb:::ri !  without  th^^  refignation  to  the  will 
rleavee,  v^^e  can  never  reach  that  elevated  grnn-, 
deur  of  charterer,  0:7  never  attain  to  that  dignified- 
endurance  of  our  rufihriags.  can  never  p-eiieis  that' 
floie  fortitude  whi^  h  places  human  happinels  be- 
yond thr  reach  rf  mifery,  an.d  out  cf  the  pov/er  of 
iat:.  Thy  great  exa-.npl.^  purs  con  fab  ti  on  into 
tae  be:a  I  s  aiid  huir^iiiity  fnouU  behold  with  grate^ 


Tk'  LiPucncc  of  SoUtud^. 

fiil  'y^>y  the  fuperiority  which  reHgnatlon  P.uords  to 
us,  even  und:.r  tr.e  frvereil  cf  phyucil  Jiiisfbrtuiies.^ 
A  (light  effcrt  to  cbtrdrx  the  fairteli  ray  of 
coTibrt,  Riid  a  cx\m  rjfigTiiuion  unJer  inevitable 
misibrair_e?,  will  naiV-u^illy  conn  ibute  to  procure  re- 
llcri-".  The  man  vvhoib  nii'nd  r,dh?res  to  virtue,  will 
never  permit  himiblf  to  be  f.)  far  overcome  by  the 
ieide  of  mistbrtune,  as  net  to  endeavor  to  vanqui(h 
his  feehngo,  evea  whcTi,  fallen  into  the  unhwppy 
ilaie  of  defprdr,  he  no  hn.'s'er  re.?s  any  prolprct  of 
comfort  cr  c  nlcl.rdon,  The  moil  dejected  fom 
ii:.?.y  endure  rciifaiDns  deeply  rirli6t::ng,  prcv'ded 
thj  mind  ht  not  lazy  rnd  inactive,  will  exercife  its 
r;ttei:tion  on  icrae  ct'hc-r  objefl:  than  i;felf,and  make 
the  finvuieft  eitbrt  to  wididraw  the  foul  from  brood- 
i::g  over  its  t  orments  and  its  forrows,  by  iLfpiring 
tiie  miad  with  ideas  of  virtuous  fentimenis,  noble 
actions,  and  generous  inciinatioDs.  For  this  reafcn, 
it  is  neccliary  to  cultivate  in  cur  riMiids  the  love  of 
F.cb:vity,  and,  after  a  dutiful  and  entli'e  fubmilTioii 
to  the  difpenfations  of  Fleaven,  force  ourfelves  into 
einpbyment,  until,  from  the  warm  h  cf  our  exer- 
tions, we  acquire  an.  habit  cf  alertnefs.  I  cjnfider  a 
diipofidcn  t.o  ot  active  amndil  that  difguft  and  apa- 
thy which  deftroy  the  nerves  cf  life,  as  the  moil 
fure  a^.d  efii:acioijs  a^jtidcte  againli  the  poifon  of 
a  drjc6ted  fpirit,  a  foured  temp  r,  a  mehmcholy 
inin.1. 

The  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the  body  is 
one  of  the  mofc  conf.  latory  truths  to  thofe  who  are 
the  fubjecci  cf  habitual  fufeings.  Supported  b-y 
this  idta,  they  never  permit  tlieir  reafon  to  be  en- 
t'.r:'ly  overcome :  rehgion,  uader  this  id  a,  never 
lof-s  its  pewerful  empire  in  the  breau  :  and  th-y 
are  never  inftru-cled  in  the  lamentable  tru^h,  that 
men  cf  the  fi  :elL  ie  ilibilities  and  nioft  cultivated 
underllan dings  frequently  diicover  lefs  fortitude 
under  alTliclions  than  th^  melt  vulgar  cf  m.ankind. 
It  i3  periiapd  incredible,  that  Cv.mp'^^'^neHa  ihouid 


IBs  Influence  of  Solitude, 

have  been  capabls  cf  deran5.ing  bis  mind  by  gfco< 
my  reflexions,  to  fuch  a  degree  that  he  migi^.t  have; 
endured  the  tortures  cf  the  rack  v/iih  lets  pain; 
but  i  ca  fro  u  my  own  experience,  afiert,  that 
even  in  the  exireiniiy  rf  diii reft,  every  obj eel  which 
divert?  the  '.tt;e:^-i3i:,  f.-rLeiic  the  evils  we  endure,' 
and  frequently  drives  ih-m,  unp^rceived,,  r.way.  ■ 
Many  cdebr?.t/.-d  p''dloiC'phc-rs  have  by  thW 
means  at  length  been  aole  net  orJy  to  preserve  a' 
tranquil  mind  in  the  midii:  of  the  mofi:  poignant 
fuiieringr.,  hut  have  even  i:.creared  the  (Irength  of- 
their  incelicCbril  faculties  in  fpiteof  their  corporeal 
pains.  Rouireau  compofed  the  greater  parr  of  his 
immortal  works  under  ths  continual  preffure  of 
ficknefs  and  of  grief.  Gellcrt,  who,  by  his  mild, 
Sigreeable,  and  inftrufdve  ■*;/ritings,  has  become  ths 
preceptor  of  Germany,  certainly  found  in  this  in- 
tereiling  occupation  the  fnrri!:  remedy  againfl  me- 
hmchrly.  At  an  age  already  far  advanced  in  I'fe, 
Mendeifohm.,  v;ho,  alth:;ugh  not  by  'cature  fubje £1: 
to  dejeclion,  was  for  a  long  tin:e  opprefTed  by  an 
almoit  inconceivable  deranp;enient  of  the  ner  vous 
lyfhesi!,  by  fubmitting  with  o^^tience  and  docility  to 
his  fiilierings,  flill  maintains  all  the  noble  and  iub- 
lime  advantages  of  h's  youth.  Garve,  who  had 
live i  T/hide  yrars  with  :ur  being  able  to  read,  to 
write,  rr  think,  ribhrw-rds  ccnipofed  his  Trea- 
tii'?  on  Ci:ero ;  an  J  in  w..;rk,  this  profound 
writer,  fo  circnvi"^'  b  hi  all  b  exprcfiicns  that  hev 
w  -  -  -^  '    -:d'  cled  if  any  word  tea 

Q'  ■     nf^*T„  With  ?  foccies 

cf  enthi:  ,  '  ^   '  ^'ity  God 

fvr  the  i  i  :     ;  .^i  ni,  i/:xauie  it^ 

had  convi  .  or"  V.  e  cxt  n.-n/e  influence  which; 

the  powers  oi  mind  pobefb  over  thcfe  cf  the 
body. 

A  fn-m  rcfolution,  a  flea^'y  adherence  towards 
fome  iiible  and  interefling  end,  will  enable  us  to 
endure  th^;  molt  poignant  afiiidion.   Aa  heroic 


71)6  Influence  of  ^r2itude.  *]% 

C(3iir?.ge  is  natur?.l  in  ?-H  the  d?.ngerons  r-nterprizes 
of  I'mbition,  and  in  the  lit  Lie  crclles  of  life  is  much 
ni~re  comr;:cn  th  ^n  p-^tience ;  but  a  perfevcring 
courage  under  evils  of  loDg  duration,  is  a  quality 
r?-rdy  f?en,  efpeci'^ih^  when  th-  foul,  er.ervMeci  by 
ind.'ucholy,  abandon?  itfelf  to  defpiiir,  it  9  rnoic  or- 
dinary refuge,  and  I:oks  up  to  Heaven  alone  for  its 
prote&ion. 

it  is  t:is  th:^t  re:-:dcrs  melancholy  the  m:il  fe- 
vere  of  all  the  cahmities  of  j.uman  life  ;  and  of  all 
the  rcT.edics  againll  it,  there  is  none  more  effica- 
cious than  a  calm  ard  filent  employnient  of  the 
ihind  :  for  in  Solitude  the  weight  of  mel-incholy  is 
leflenei  by  the  feebleil  eltcrf,  by  the  fiighteft  re- 
fiiiance.  I'he  moment  \<k.  make  it  a  rule  never  to 
be  idle,  and  to  bear  our  fuffirings  with  patience, 
the  keenefi  nnguifli  •:  f  the  Icul  fiies_from  our  relig- 
nztion,  y^Ields  t-D  our  fubmiilion.  Vv  1  ile  we  encou- 
rage a  f.  ndrefs  for  aclivity,  nnd  en.^er.vcr  to  impel 
the  incumberit  mifery  by  moderate  but  continuecl 
efforts,"  the  fpirits  gain  new  pr;v/Lrs :  a  iinall  viclO- 
ry  leads  to  a  greater  conqne'l: ;  and  the  j  jy  which 
fiiccjfs  inipire?,  im  r.ediat-lv  defcroys  the  ncticn  we 
had  enter:axed  of  endlefs  fon'ow.  If  the  exertions 
of  realbnand  virtue  prove  in*feci:ua]  againft  li:k- 
cefs  and  ill- humor,  w^e  fhouH  employ  ihe  mind 
upon  fome  engaging  ^'>:e<^  wh-ch  requires  but  little 
attention  ;  for  the  u^ghteft  is  freque  :tiy  caoable 
of  iubdai;-!g  the  fev.reft  fcrrow.  The  fhades  of 
melancholy  difapp  -ar.  the  momert  we  fix  attention 
on  anv  obj  £1:  that  intereits  the  mind  Oftentimes, 
i:b-S  !  that  extrava8:iint  defpair,  that  fupiaenefs  and 
npat'^y  which  rej^fts  all  advice,  and  renders  us  in- 
capable cf  confolation,  is  only  a  concealment  of  cur 
vexations,  and  cf  confequenceb-^c-'-.mesa  real  n^ala- 
<ly  of  the  mind,  wivch  it  is  impciTible  to  conquer 
but  by  a  firm  and  conftant  perfeverance. 

To  men  who  polT^fs  a  feniibihty  too  refined,  an 
irri-jLgination  too  ard-^ut^  to  mix  wicli  comfort  in  ths 


72  The  lnfu€j:ce  r/ ^olitude^ 

fociety  of  the  world,  and  who  nra  contmiinlly  com- 
piaining  of  men  and  t;.ing?,  Sclitade  is  not  only  de- 
fin-ible,  but  ?il  fohit'^Iy  ncccflary.  H-;  who  fiilFir^rs 
himielf  to  be  affiicled  bv  that  which  icarcely  ex- 
cites an  fmction  ia  the  brealls  of  nther  iren  ;  who 
comrhii/^-S  :  f  thofe  misfortiinv«s  as  fevere  which  eth- 
ers icarcely  ieei ;  whofe  vtvoA  falh",  int  )  deipair  mi- 
lefij  his  happmefs  bs  inftantly  reft-,  red,  and  his 
v/ants  iaimediaffly  faiisii^d  ;  who  fufters  unceaf^ng 
torments  from  the  iihiCjons  of  his  fancy  ;  who  feels 
himfelf  unhapp^^  cniy  bccnife  proiparity  do^s  not 
£nticip-.ite  his  w:fhes ;  who  murmurs  ag;^i^fl  the 
bleffings  hs  receives,  hecaufe  he  is  ignor?iin  of  his 
real  w;mts ;  who  F-ies  from  cn^  amufement  to  ano- 
ther ;  who  is  alarmed  at  every  thing,  ^nd  enjoys 
nothing :  he,  alas  i  is  net  formed  f(:r  ibciety ;  and 
if  Solitude  has  not  power  to  heai  his  wounded 
fplrit,  the  earth  cert^^iiily  contains  no  remedy  to 
cure  him. 

Men  who  in  other  refpfcls  are  very  rational, 
p-^iTeffcd  of  exceiknt  he;n-is,  of  pious  difpoiitions, 
frequenily  f^^.ll  info  difquieiude  and  dtfpair,  but  it 
is  a  Ir^i  of  I  entirely  their  ov:n  hxAt,  If  their  delpair 
ar.fe,  as  i?  g~ceraib^  thi  cafe,  from  unfr.i:::ded  fears  ; 
if  t^:ey  love  to  tcr  -  nt  'headMves  and  others  upon 
every  iligSt  i;xonve.iie:>ce,  up;Dn  the  finalleit  de- 
rangement of  their  health  ;  if  they  conflartly  re- 
fort  to  injdicine  for  that  reli  rf  which  rcafon  alcav^  can 
afFjrd ;  if  they  will  rxt  er^deavor  to  reprtfs  the 
wanderirgs  of  t-  'eir  farcies ;  if,  after  h?vi:g  fup- 
ported  the  ari!^''^  o""ns  with  patience,  andbhmc»:d 
the  greate'c  a  by  fortitude,  they  neither 

ran  n:r  W;li  ie^au  l.<  :)car  t'^epun(fi:areof  the  frnall- 
eix  pin,  to  ensure  t'^e  lig:  teH:  accidents  of  irortal 
iife  ]  they  ought  not  to  co'  :^  -'-^ii  of  the  want  of 
ecu i-a^re  to  any  but  t  iear',  .:  i\:ch  characterf?, 
\vl>o  by  a  fingle  efbrt  of  t-ia  :  aierihindi-^g  might 
look  with  an  eye  of  comDoibrc;  an  1  taai^quiility  oa 
the  multiplied  aiad  fatal  iires  iffuicg  from  the  dread- 


The  hjhience  of  Solitude*  7  3 

ful  cannon's  mouth,  fall  under  the  apprehenCon  of 
being  fired  at  by  p-^p  guns. 

Firninefs,  reibluticn,  and  all  thofe  qualities  of 
the  foul  which  form  a  fcoic  hardnefs  of  characler, 
are  much  fooner  acquired  by  a  quiet  communion 
with  the  heart,  than  in  the  bufy  ir.teixourfes  of 
mankind,  where  innumerable  difficulties  continual- 
ly oppofe  us;  where  duty,'fcrvility,  flattery,  and 
fear,  obfiiruct  exertion  where  every  thing  unites 
to  dcftroy  cur  powers  ;  acd  where,  tor  thisreafon^ 
men  of  the  weake^l  m.inds  raid  moft  contracted  no- 
tions are  always  more  active  and  popular,  gain 
more  attention,  and  are  better  received  than  mea 
cf  enlarged  and  noble  minds. 

The  mind  fortifies  irfelf  with  impregnable 
Rrength  under  the  fhades  of  Solitude  againfl  fulFer- 
ings  and  altliccion.  In  retirement,  the  frivolous  at- 
tachments which  fteal  away  the  foul,  and  drive  it 
wandering,  as  ch^^nce  may  direil,  into  a  dreary 
void,  die  away.  The  dillracling  multiplicity  of  en- 
joyments are  here  renounced  ;  we  have  experienc- 
ed how  little  we  v/ant ;  p^rh  ips  have  made  fo  con^ 
liderable  a  progrefs  in  the  knowledge  of  onrfelve?, 
that  we  feel  no  difcompofure  when  the  Alruighly 
chaftifes  us  with  allf.dions,  humbles  cur  prouJ 
fpirits  and  vain  conceits,  thwarts  the  violence  cf 
cur  paffions,  and  reftorcs  us  to  a  lively  fenie  of  out 
inanity  and  weaknefs.  How  many  imxportant  truths 
do  we  here  learn,  of  which  the  Vv^orlJly-minded 
man  has  no  idea  ;  truths  which  the  torrent  of  van- 
ity overwhelms  in  his  diffipated  fouK'  How  famii- 
iarifed  we  become  Vwith  the  evils  attached  to  a  ftate 
of  mortality,  in  proportion  as  we  caft  the  calm  eye 
of  reflection  on  curielyes  and  on  the  ohje(!:LS  which 
farround  us !  In  a  llate  of  Sclitud?^  and  tranquillity, 
how  diflerent  every  thing  appears !  The  heart  ex- 
pands to  the  molt  virtuous  fentiments ;  the  blufh 
of  confcience  reddens  on  tue  cheek ;  we  reach  the 
fubiimefc  conceptions  cf  the  mind,  adept  tlie  bold- 


74  l^hs  InJJuence  of  ScUtude. 

refoluti  ^ns,  ?.nd  obferva  u  concucl:  truly  irre- 
prodchrible. 

'i  he  unfortunate  being  who  deplores  the  death 
of  fome  beh'ved  friend,  ccniiantly  feels  ^  (!.rorg 
de'Te  to  v/ifhdraw  from  the  i:.itercourfe  of  fociety  ; 
whii^  all  unite  to  de'lrpy  Ve  l-i-^al^le  inclination.' 
They  av::id  all  converfiticn  ^vith  ih-i  unhappy  fuf- 
ferer  on  the  fuhj.61:  cf  liis  b  is,  a-^d  think" it  more 
f  on{bh':ory  to  (urronnd  '  i:n  a  cr  jV7d  of  ac- 
quaintance, cc  ld  ar.n  ir:dllt£rev:.r  t  j  ths  e^/ent,  vvho. 
think  their  duties  fuflidc'.nly  dii charged  by  paying 
the  rribuuiry  vi'it,  an  '  ch-t^ci-i-;-  from  morning  till, 
evening  on  the  cnrren:  :  town,  as  if  each; 

cf  thsir  pin  lim'rics  cn.\^j... .  .Ini  cf  coin  for  tin-- 
to  the  wcnn.  e.:i  heart. 

■  "  Leave  vie  to  myfdf  \  ex:l':in~;ed.a  thoufand 
times,  v/ithin  two  3^earr,  aPrer  my  arrival  in  Ger- 
many, where  I  I  dt  tne  Invely  idol  cf  my  heart,  the 
amiable  companion  cf  my  life.  Her  d:p?rted  fpi- 
rit  ftili  hovers  round  me  :  the  f  n-'er recallettion  of- 
all  that  ihe  was  to  me,  the  i:fii  cting  remembrance i 
of  all  that  fhe  fullered  cn  rny  account,  are  ahvays 
prefect  to  my  mind.  What  i3i;ri;y  and  innocence  \ 
What  mildnefs  and  affabiiiry!  Ider  death  was  as 
calm  and  refigned  as  her  i'f  3  vvas  pure  and  virtu- 
ous !  During  five  long  months  ti'e  lieger  ng  pangs 
.of  dilTolution  hung  continually  arcund  her.  Onei 
da3^,  as  fhe  reclined  uoon  h  r  Di'dow.  wliile  I  read 
to  her  "  The  Death  of  Chrifd'  by  Raniinlir,  fhe' 
eafl  her  eyes  over  the  p'.ge^  and  liiendy  pointed  out; 
to  me  the  fdlowing  pailiige  : — IMy  breath  grows 
weak,  my  da^^s  are  fhortened,  my  heart  is  full  of 
nfflidion,  and  mry  foul  prepares  to  take  its  flight." 
Alas  !  when  I  recall  all  th:^^  circumilanees  to  m.y- 
mind,  and  reccile6l  :  "  —  ''"-:Ie  it  was  for  me 
to  abandon  the  v/orld      .  'nent  of  ar.guifli 

and  diflrefs,  whral  carrietl  the  iceds  of  death  with- 
in my  bofom,  vdien  i  had  neither  forth  ude  to  bear 
my  attiidioas,  nor  courage  to  reliit  them ;  while  li 


The  Lifuer.cj  of  SoUtiuk.  75 

r;2f  yet  purfued  by  nialice,  and  outraged  by  ca- 
lumny ;  in  fuch  a  fituition,  I  can  eaHi}^  concsiv* 
th?.t  Tny  exciaaiation  nii^ht  be,  Leave  vie  to  mj- 
Jll/r 

To  be  alone,  far  retired  from  the  tuii^iilts  and 
embarrallineuts  of  locie.y,  is  the  firil  a^::d  for.deft 
deilre  of  tha  heart,  when  under  fu:h  misfcrtune^f, 
we  are  unhappily  fitua'ed  aiiiO'\&;  mea  who,  inca- 
p.ible  of  equal  feeling,  have  uo  idea  of  the  icrments 
we  endure. 

How !  to  live  in  Sclitude,  to  rjimquhTr  the  fc-- 
clety  of  men,  to  be  buried,  during  life,  in  fon:e  wild 
deferred  country  i  O  yes  f  fuch  a  retreat  aiTjrds  a 
tender  and  certliin  ccniblation  under  all  the  L^liiic- 
ticns  which  fafien  cn  the  heart.  Such  i",  the  eter- 
nal frp-'ratij^n  of  ienfible  and  beloved  fiien.ls ;  a 
iep:n:ti:n  m^re  griev  ous  and  territyi:  g'thrui  the 
fallal  period  iilelf  v/r.ich  terminates  exiftence :  th-: 
he;^rt  is  torn  with  anguilh,  the  viry  ground  we  frea  i 
on  feems  to  fiak  beneath  cur  feet,  when  t::i?  hor-- 
rihle  and  hidden  event  divides  us  fr  m  thofe  who 
had  for  f  j  long  a  period  been  all  iii  all  to  us  in  life, 
whofe  mem:ry  neither  time  nor  accident  can  wipe 
away,  and  whofe  abfence  renders  all  the  plealures' 
of  the  w.  rld  odious  to  our  fight.  Sclilude  i3a  fuch 
an  event  is  our  only  ref  >urce  :  but  to  foften  the 
grief  which  thi?  etern?.!  feparation  iniii^ls,  to  remove 
tae  forrows  which  prey  upon  the  pjor  heart,  to 
wipe  away  ti  e  ter.rs  trom  the  cheeks,  we  muil,  e- 
ven  in  Solituie,  contiaue  to  employ  the  mind,  to 
excite  its  attention  to  the  accompiilhrnent  of  feme 
iDtererLing  end,  and  ieah  the  imrgination  from  cue 
object  to  another. 

How  many  torments,  alas !  are  there  that  lie 
concealed  from  the  cbiervation  cf  the  world,  which 
we  mu  :  barn  to  bear  within  cur  own  bofcms,  and 
which  can  only  be  foftened  by  Bclitude  and  retire- 
men  t  1 

Reprefent  to  yciirfelf  an  unfortunate  foreign-- 


vo  The  Infiience  of  Solitude.  j 

e_r  placed  in  a  country  where  every  one  t;'as  fufpi- 
cious  of  his  ch?a-a£ler,  borne  down  by  misfortunes 
from  every  fide,  attacked  every  moment  by  def- 
pair ;  who,  during  a  loiig  courfe  of  years,  could 
neither  iloop  nor  fit  to  write,  without  feeling  the  ' 
moft  excruciating  pains ;  in  a  ccuntry,  v/here,  from 
a  fanatic  prejudice,  every  one  iircv/ed  thorns  and 
briers  in  his  path ;  where,  in  the  midft  cf  ?11  his 
Jiiliielions,  he  was  deprived  of  the  object  which  v/as 
dearefl  to  him  in  the  world.  Yet  it  was  in  iiich 
^  countr}^,  and  under  thefe  circumftances,  that  he,  at 
length,  found  a  perfon  who  ex: ended  the  hand  cf 
affe-ftlon  towards  him  ;*  whcfe  voice,  like  a  voice 
from  Keaveo,  faid  to  him  :  "  Come,  1  will  dry  up 
your  tears,  i  v/ill  icfpire  courage  into  your  wound- 
ed heart,  i  will  be  the  kind  comforter  of  ?ll  your  ^ 
fufFerings,  aid  you  to  fupport  them,  banifh  the  re- 
imembrance  of  fcrrow  from  your  m.ind,  recall  your 
fenfibility  to  the  touching  beauti-s  ofirature,  and 
force  you  to  acknowledge,  th-.it  the  Religion  -vje 
profefs  is  alfo  infpiredby  a  beneficent  Deity,  whofe 
goodnefs  fcrew^s  flowers  over  the  paths  of  life.  Ycu 
ihall  afterwards  afford  affiflance  to  m?,  become  p?.rt 
of  my  family,  aiid  we  will  read,  think,  feel,  and 
life  up  our  hands  together  in  oraifons  to  God.  I 
wili  endeavor  to  charrii  away  the  filence  of  difgufl 
by  e::iter':aining  converfition  ;  and,  wheii  tranquili- 
ty ror urns,  coll 3ct  for  you  all  the  floxvers  v/hich  a- 
dorn  the  paths  of  life  ;  difcourfe  wi:h  you  on  t-ie 
ch  a  r  1:1 3  of  virtue  ;  think  of  yv.u  with  love;  treat 
you  with  efceem  ;  rJy  upon  you  v/ith  confidence; 
prove  to  yon  that  the  peopl  e  among  w^hom  ycu  are 
fituated  are  lefs  v/icked  than  you  conceive  them  to 
be  ;  and  peroaps  that  they  are  not  fo  r.t  all,  I  will 
remove  from  your  mind  all  anxiety  about  domeflic 
concerns ;  do  every  thiag  to  relieve  and  pleafe  you  : 

*  The  author  here  siiudes  to  Madame  Dorine,  wife  of  the  Coun- 
i^'or  of  State,  ar.d  ca^^titcr  to  the  cclel:  ate-.i  "V'K-c-Cnur.ceilor  Sciube. 


The  hijlMr.ce  cf  S:/ifi2d\  77 

ynu  (hall  fafre  all  the  happinefs  of  an  ep.fy,  (nnquil 
life,  i  will  diiigcnJy  endeavor  to  print  out  your 
faults,  and  you,  in  gratitude,  (hall  alio  correcTl:  mine : 
you  fhall  form  my  miad,  comuuinicate  to  me  your 
knowledge,  and  prefirve  to  me,  by  the  airift.mce 
of  God  and  your  cwn  talents,  the  felicities  of  my 
life,  togcciier  with  thofe  of  my  hufband  and  my 
children  :  we  will  l.;ve  cur  neig^bc•rs  with  the 
f.ime  heart,  and  unite  cur  eideavors  to  ailDrd  con- 
foil. ion  to  the  aiHicled,  and  fiixor  to  the  diftrefTed.'* 

But  if,  after  having  experienced  all  th's  plea- 
fure  during  a  great  nu  nber  cf  ye^rs  ;  if,  after  ha- 
ving enjoyed  thefe  ccnfolations  under  circumitances 
the  inoft  critical  and  cruel ;  if,  after  flattering  my- 
fclf  that  her  friendly  hands  would  clofe  niy  dying 
eye-lids,  that  I  fliould  expire  in  ti:fe  arms  cf  this  he- 
roic female;  if,  for  only  obeying  the  divine  im- 
pul'^e  of  comnjireration,  nv/  proLectrefs  fnould  be 
tern  for  ever  fi-om  the  b:fom  of  her  family,  obliged 
to  leave  her  country,  and  feck  a  voluntary  exile  in 
a  frreign  hud ;  if  I  fh  :uld  behold  m.yfelf  for  ever 
deprived  of  this  dear  friend,  this  prot  cting  angel, 
v/h.it  comfort  would  remain  for  me  on  the  face  cf 
iheearih?  Thus  abandoned  and  forl  rn,  to  what 
cfyium  could  i  ily  ?  To  SoU-ude  ab>ne ;  there  I 
might  combat  my  riling  griefs,  and  learn  to  fiipport 
my  defiiny  with  courage. 

lb  a  heart  torn,  by  too  rio;crous  a  dcfliny, 
fjo'n  the  bofDm  that  v/as  opened  for  it3  reception, 
from  a  boforn  in  which  it  fondly  dwelr,  from  an  ob- 
ject that  it  dearly  loved,  detached  from  every  cb- 
jecl,  at  a  L  is  where  to  fix  its  aite^tion,  or  c:mmn- 
nicate  its  feen  g<?,  SoUtude  abne  can  adminifler 
comfori.  To  him  Vv'ho.  in  t'^e  cruel  hour  of  fepa- 
radon,  exclaims  in  the  bitternefs  of  his  fjul,  "la 
every  exert'on  to  do  good,  m.y  only  reward  is  to 
give  you  pleafure  ;  all  the  happlnefs  cf  my  life  con- 
centres in  thejrys  that  you  receive Solitude  is 
th^  bfl  and  ouiy  conlbh.  ion. 

( v'ii  2) 


7  S  The^  Btfmence  cf  SoBijdr.  - 

There  are,  therefore,  fi!  nations  from  which  na- 
thing  but  Solirude  an  J  retirerr.ent  cm  reheve  us. 
For  this  rcaibn,  it  freqaeirly  neccfT-'.ry  that  thofe 
whom  mehinchcly  affefts,  fhould  be  h^ft  alcne  ;  for^ 
as  we  (hiiil  now  pr3cec:d  to  (hew,  they  may  find  in  ^' 
Soh tilde  au  infinite  variety  cf  comolati'ons,  and  ma-  ' 
ny  fources  cf  comfort,  both  for  the  mind  and  the 
heart. 

The  JieaUhy  and  the  fick,  the  happy  and  the* 
miferable,  the ^  rich  and  the  poor,  ail,  without  ex- 
ception, may  fi'od  i^fi.iite  advantages  in  a  religious 
retirement  from  the  world.  It  is  net,  alis  1  'in  the 
temples  of  Fleafure,  in  thofe  meetings  where  every 
one  empties  to  its  laft  drop  the  cup  of  Felly,  in  the 
Coteries  occupied  by  vulgir  gaiety,  in  briUiant  af- 
femiblies,  or  at  hixurious  boards,  that  the  mind- 
grows  fimihar  with  tncfe  tender  and  lublime  fenti- 
ments  v/hich  fubdue  the  defires  cf  fenl'uality,  enno- 
ble all  the  enjoymen's  of  this  life,  raife  the  pifiing 
moment  into  irnportanre  by  conne^llr.g  it  with  the 
events  cf  futurity,  and  banilh  from  a  trarfitory  life 
the  extravagant  fondnefs  fcr  tha  difiip^itions  cf  the 
world. 

In  Solitude  v/e  behclA  m^ore  ne?r  arid  iniiniate- 
ly  that  Providence  which  overlooks  all.  Silence 
continually  recalls  to  our  minds  the  confolatory 
idea,  the  mdld  and  farisf;  »R:ory  fentiment,  that  the 
eye  of  the  Almigh-y  is  for  ever  viev/irg  the  actions 
ef  his  creatures  j  that  he  iuperiatends  all  cur  move- 
ments: that  we  are  governed  by  his  power,  and 
prefsrved  by  his  goodr.efs.  In  Solitude,  the  Dtiiy 
IS  every  where  before  us.  Emancipated  frcm  the 
dargercus  ferment  . tions  of  fenfe,  guided  by  noble? 
iiichnations,  pcilelTed  cf  pur^,  unalterable  joy s,^  we 
contea^plate  witli  ferioufnefs  a'od  vigor,  with  free- 
dom  and  with  ccDfi.derce,  -the  attainm.ent  of  fu* 
preme  felicity,  and  enjoy  in  thought  the  happinefs 
we  expecl  to  reach,  hi  this  h  ly  meditation  every 
.^agble  Isutiiiient,  every  *)ainful  anxiety,  every. 


ne  Irf  uciKC  of  SclifiuL; 
Worldly  thought  and  vulgar  care,  vanifh  frDin  the 

Solitude  b?.?  alrs'idy  brought  us  rerr-  r  ta 
God,  when,  b-'rli  !e      the  ♦endc.r  and  ruman-T  feel- 
ings of  tne  heart,  we  feel  thofe  falutary  feofaii-n.*^ 
which  a  diftriift  an  !  j^ahufy  of  our  own  abiliiies 
create ;  fcnfaticns  whicd  in  pubi  c  lie  make  l^ght 
and  trardient  irapreffions,  and  fade  io  foon  away. 
When  at  the  b-?d  of  fickr^efs  I  behold  the  effcrts 
whica  the  Icul  ra^skes  to  cppofe  its  impending  diilc-^ 
kiuon  fr:m  the  body,  and,  notwithflanding,  difco- 
vix  by  the  increafiiig  tortures  the  r.ipi.i  advanr^es  of 
spprcaching  death    ^^he^i  I  fje  my  unhappy  patient 
extrnd  his  cold  and  trem.blin?  hands,  to  thank  the 
AlmightV'  for  the  fmLaileft  mltiga  ion  of  bis  pains  ; 
when  I  hear  his  utterance  crcvked  by  incenni:  gled 
groaas,  and  view  the  tender  locks  and  filer t  lan- 
guage of  his  attending  friends ;  aJi  my  powers  aV.an- 
don  me,  mv  heart  bleeds,  and  I  terir  myfelffrom 
the  forrcwful  fcene,  Jo  pcur  my  t  :ars  more  freely 
over  the  unhappy  fuiicnngs  of  humanijiv,  tolamtent 
my  own  inability,  and  the  vain  conhience  placed 
in 'a  feeble  art ;  a  c  ^nfid^nce  which  m.en  ha  v^heea 
fo  forward  to  abufe.    Confcious  of  the  inetiicicy 
of  art,  I  never  rife  from  my  bed  witbcut  thi:^J<:ing 
k  a  heavenly  miracle  that  1  am  ifill  ahve.    When  I 
count  the  number  cf  my  years,  I  exclaim  with  the 
live.Heft  gratitude,  that  Gcd  has  prefen-ed  my  lifg 
beyond  m.y  exp:6riti:  Uv    l  hrcu.-h  what  a  fea  of 
dangers  h:^s  his  gjodncfs  conduclxd  me  1  Refietl:. 
ing  every  moment  on  tne  weaknefs  cf  niy  condition^, 
and  beholding  men  fuMenly  foatched  away  before 
me  in  the  prim^e  and  vigor  of  hfe  ;  miCn  who,  but  ?^ 
few  hours  before,  entertained  no  fear  cf  death,  and 
reckoned,  perhaps>  cn^an  extended  leng'h  of  days  -^ 
v/hat  can  I  do,  but  olter  up  my  fil:-nt  adoratiors  to 
tf.at  Providence  who  has  thus  faved  m.e  from  the 
menaces  of  Death  i 

is;  it  poliibls  ta  'ixcome  wife,-  and  efcapis  from 


8o 


%  Influence  of  Edkvdc 


all  the  perils  w'th.  which  the  wcrld  iibonnds,  with- 
out renouncing  its  diili 
ferions  ex;;mi:;a:;ion  of 
that  wc  are  able  mati  : 
hear  and  i^e ;  it  is  odIv 
of  the  mind  that  we  ran 
reffirg  cbjecls  to 
either  ufc  ful  or  p:  ■ 
attentior  i..: 
\'Vii.,:      .    Oi  to  r 
puruiir  of  eEtertcinirfn; 
Seclion,  from  one  pn:-  ■ 


rcnv.ria':i  r^s  on  low 


ions,  and  entering  into  a 
ot  on rf  Ives  ?  It  is  then  j -nly 
.  fit  ct  upon  what  w 
.  .     the  11  lent  occnpaiion'^ 
properly  view  thcfe  inte- 

,  '.v^  c-  n  never  devote  aa1| 

:  ^:c^;fred  by  the  inceilant 
; :  Ly  Ih  ing,  without  re- 
' "  !      ;  by  continual 
uyects ;  by  un- 


v/h  ^  would 


notning, 


He 


n  -  ■ 
lo 
iv' 


no  :s  i  iy  ri  our  w:iy,  v?  let 


■  n,"  r?yvS  a  Celebrated 
1 J  live  in  Sditude/'  An 
..nlpdtioa  ftiftes  every  vir- 
I  re  do)ni:iion  of  reafbn  is  1:11' 
'ly-o  of  piealiire;  its  voice  is  no 
u  hrrity  no  longer  obeyed.  The 
::  iv,;s  t  :  I'irmount  temptations  ; 
."i;^g  th.^  f:ares  which  the  paf- 
to  find  them.  I'he 


:t  ren^non  are 
\       :n  :he 


•re 


?>  fr.u:^tion  fo  little  re- 
ry  diffipations  of  the 
V  of  abiurd  purruits,  in- 
nie  y  a::d  pleafare,  in- 
:;  riety  which  raiies  the 
dclir-s,  all  connexions 
broken  ;  and  w^e  aban- 
curce  of  true  felicity,  re- 
/  of  reaf.n,  and  never  think  of 
-0':  Y^h  levity  and  indifeence. 

.  J,  entering  in. o  a  ferious 
in  i/Lnt  rn-?dita:ion  elevates  his 
rc-;fi:n:i  to:i^2rds  his  God ;  who 
confidtrs  the  an-phitheaire  of  nature,  the  fpangled 
iirmament  of  Heaven,  ^he  verdant  meads  enamelled 
witu  flovrcrs,  the  iliipeudous  mountiiiinsj  zud  the 


w  . .  ■  ■      ^  :.:  a 

traaced  :  '-'ya 

pi.ii;o;-^s,  .  . 
beiween  God  and  maj 
don  the  firlt  anJ  only 
nouace  t: 
religious 
On  the  c 
feif-exa^n: 
thou^ihts  ( 


Th  Influence  cf  SoIltuJc.  8 1 

:-:it  groves,  as  the  temples  of  the  Divinity;  who 
::re^i:s  the  emoli  ns  cf  i  is  he-:rt  to  the  Grc;at  Au- 
thor and  Conducl:or  of  nil  things  ;  v/hj  ha^  contin- 
u  lly  before  h's  eyes  his  eElightened  Providence, 
nuill:  moil  airuredly  have  already  learned  to  live  ia 
pious  Solitude  and  religiius  meditation. 

l^hus,  by  devotir'g  daily  oniv  as  many  hours 
to  filent  reflection  as  are  empLyed  at  the  toilet  or 
co.:rum?d  at  the  card  table,  Soiiiude  may  be  ren- 
dered inftrument^l  in  leading  the  mind  to  piety,  and 
t'-^e  heart  to  virtue.  Meditation  and  r- flection  con- 
^  .ey  every  mnment  greater  force  and  folidity  to  the 
relL-cl,  excile  abhorrence  cf  too  frequent  inter- 
urfts  with  mankind,  and  create  difguft  of  their 
idle  entertainmenfs.  We  may  chf rifh  the  teft  in- 
tentions towards  our  feliow-creaiurcs,  ma}^ilIccor 
them  in  diftref?,  may  do  them  all  the  good  in  cm* 
power,  and  yet  fl::un  the  Inxnry  cf  ^he'r  feaflis,  fly 
from  their  coteries,  and  difdain  the'r  frivclous  pur- 
fuits. 

The  opportunities  of  exercifmg  great  virtues, 
cf  performing  actiors  of  extenflve  utility  or  ur.iver- 
f;l  benevolence,  are  confined  orl^^  to  a  few  charac- 
ters. But  how  many  f  lent  virtues  are  there,  wiiich 
every  man  has  it  in  his  power  to  pevfcrm  wirhout 
qin.tlng  his  chamber?  He  who  can  contentedly  era- 
ploy  himfeif  at  heme,  m-^.y  continue  thrre  thewhcle 
year,  and  yet  in  every  day  of  that  year  may  contri- 
bu'e  to  the  frlxity  of  ether  men  ;  he  may  liften  to 
their  complaints,  r/iieve  their  d'ftref^,  render  many 
fervires  to  tiicfe  who  are  about  him,  and  exreo-d  his 
benevolence  in  various  ways,  v/ithotit  beicg  feen  by 
the  worl.-l,  cr  known  by  thcfe  on  wh:m  he  cciiferci 
his  favors. 

A  flrorg  and  determined  inclination  for  Sell- 
tude  is  frequently  an  hoppy  omen  ci'  a  pious  difpofi- 
tion.  Youth  fr:queiitly  experiences  a  v?gue  and 
^definable  gbom,  winch,  as  the  mhid  advances  in 
reafon,  dies,  prcgreiTiVcly  away.   It  is  cuiing  this 


8  Z  The  Infdicnce  of  ErJltudc. 

interval  that  v^'e  begin  to  u  xicrfl^.nd  th^  huTiaa;' 
ch'.nvfO-?^  to  f-r.Ti  an  efVniate  of  cDrfdves,  to  per- 
t  r-  Vrii  t  Vv'e  cught  to  be, 

Jr.^.^.-  ..  .  ;t         qA  ch  :::.:e  ci"  coniiitutic 

turn.:  .  -uU  -.^  'f  th-  f  ul  int d  n  new  direc- 

tion ;  •;:.c-:s  ill  ■if,  and  i"'-.--  '  -  fug- 

geuR  '  v:':\r  ti  g  curl'  ,       ,.  rbi 

the  Lh  M  drfty 's  cha  firi:t  Idlon  c  ^ 

a'V»'-.  -  vine  the  frit  proof  we  receive 

c  Oi::t\::c  '  .    1  :'^vb:ig^- of  curielves.  The 

f'V..  :u  )'  of  toe  p  lu  OS  io   lent  cioring  the  forious, 
folito.ry  ii:      v.-  i :  \  \v :  p--.fs  in  a  ii  xere  felf-^x^mi- 
nati  ni.  :  'loej  pr-o:;^e  too  de  Bly,  and 

beer  in.  ''[c  ofc^'ed  at  cur  lituation, 

crfn'  ■      the  iirpreili-jn^^, 

af)s  1  .  .  .  .......    \  cL  even  this  rxcefs, 

vvhe :  C3:n;)n-  o  voth  irs  opponte  defircc,  v/ith  that 
fatal  u.p:;:e.:ei'^  w.  ich  exti  ^cuimes  every  virtue,  is 
a  r  -al  r  -  Y^s^zrt^^.  The  Wvrtr^t  incrtiiica'icn  we  feel 
cn  the  dif'ovary  of  oii^  c  f:  c^^,  is  converted  by  the 
light  CI  a  pinre  and  r.n::n.  l  fndi  into  happy  cafe 
and  pcrf-.cit  in  qui  ;  i  he  fanatic  enthiifiaffc 
pr  fen:  -  '  '  ■■  -  e  ho:  .•■  nnighty  much  cftener 
than  -oirj  ^vho  (icoflij  at  religion,- 

and  r 

'  OS  is  f:!  cx'^-cmely  rare,, 

t'  tain  by 

ii  ^-^usto 
nv  .  to  ccn- 

q  :  ..^i'l'^g  from 

pi  c  '  ■  to  force  us 

i.no  ae  nil  awa- 

ke.: 10  Jio  -  :.vv  rruit 

rpen  hd,  and  the 

cup  '     ...  V        .        .'  nom  a 

C">nvici::Dn  cf  ;  "  :  i:  w     :ha;;  '-eat- 

eiVpioiefrrbo,  ■  Mn- 

Garyc,  cxdo-.  o  ^elf;  I 

am  iudvbtcd  to  my  malady.,      o^.v -v;n  led  me  to 


The  Influence  of  SrMtiide,  83 

make  a  cl  "fer  fcrutiny  and  mere  nccura(e  cbfcrva- 
tion  of  niy  own  cbaracler." 

The  powers  cf  rell/'ion  and  phil ofop'^y  are,  in 
Solitude,  united  to  coiiducl  us  to  the  f:uT(e  end. 
Both  of  theai  te.ich  us  to  examine  our  hearts  ;  both 
of  them  tidl  us  that  \ve  canuot  guard  with  to:)  ieri- 
cus  an  apprehenfion  againfl:  the  dangers  cf'fanati- 
cifin,  Dor  decry  them  wiih  too  loud  a  v:.ice ;  but 
they  alio  inftrufl  us,  that  if  virtue  canDot  be  iuflil- 
ied  into  th^  foul  with  ut  its  undergoir.g  1"  rne  coe- 
vulfions,  yet  we  ought  not  to  he  difcovir?.ged  by  the 
fear  cf  dangver.  It  is  not  i  i  the  monne":!-.  cfj?»y, 
U'hen  we  turn  our  eyes  from  Go  \  r.r.d  to:nk  not 
of  etendiy,  i\m  we  <;xperierce  theie  fL'ut?ry  con- 
vuifi  .ns  cf  the  U;ul.  E^^-•l  Rdigion,  widi  all  her 
powers,  cannot  pr;:duce  iheni  fj  focn  as  a  ccrpo- 
re-:d  malady  or  mental  efflictic  n.  But  if  the  foul 
advances  too  fiowly  in  the  her  nc  courl^e  of  virtue  ; 
if,  and  Mi  the  buv  le  of  the  wcrld,  the  iuj^i^errions 
of  confcience  lofe  their  power,  let  every  ore  retire, 
as  frequently  as  he  poilibly  can,  i  :to  Solitude,  and 
there  proilratvs  himielf  before  God  an:l  his  own 
heart. 

In  theiail  moments  of  life,  it  is  cert  rhi  '  hit  we 
ail  wilh  wa  had  lived  more  in  Solituie,  in  a  greater 
intimacy  with  curfelves,  ?nd  ia  a  cl  .f  r  communion 
ivith  God.  Freii  ;d  by  thrir  recclletlion,  v/e  then 
■  clearl}^  perceii/e,  that  ail  our  faults  have  happened, 
from  not  fiianning  the  fnares  of  the  world  ;  from 
not  having  kept  a  watchful  eye  yp:n^the  wander- 
ings of  the  heart,  in  the  midft  cf  thole  dangers  by 
which  it  was  furroundcd.  If  we  were  to  oppole  the 
fentiments  of  a  foiitary  m  ir,  who  had  pafTcd  his 
life  in  pious  conference  with  God,  to  the  ftntiments 
which  occupy  the  minds  of  diiTipatcd  men,  v*d:o 
never  think  of  their  Creator,  and  fachfice  their 
whole  exlftence  to  the  erjoym-er.t  of  the  moment ; 
if  we  compare  the  chars&er  of  a  Vvuc  man,  who 
nfleSs  in  filance  oa  the  importance  of  eternity,  with 


^-4  ^'he  Inf  uence  of  ScHtude, 

that  of  the  fafnionable  being,  who  coniu-mes  all  his 
tiiTie  at  ridcttcs,  balls,  ar^d  aiiemblies ;  we  fhall  then 
perceive  that  an  incliiiation  for  SoHtiic^e,  a  dignified 
retirement,  a  deure  of  having  a  ithct  friend,  and 
3,  rational  fodety,  caa  al me  alTord  us  true  pleafure, 
and  give  us,  b  yoad  all  die  vain  enj  .:-yincn:s  cf 
the  voiidj  c.  ;  Johdon  in  death,  and  hopes  of  etcr-^. 
iial  life'.  ,f 

ii  is,  however,  upon  the  bed  of  death  that  we 
dif:ov:r^  more  than  in  any  other  fituaiion,  t-  e 
great  diier^rcc  becween  t:?  ju't  man,  who  has 
paffed  his  cays  ii  c.  hn,  rdigicu^  contemplaticn, 
and  the  man  of  the  world,  whofe  thoughts  have 
only  bcv'^n  empl:ycd  to  feed  his  paffions,  and  grati- 
fy his  clein-^s.  A  life  p^iTed  amicft  the  tumuituous 
diflip?.ti  n  of  the  wcrld,  even  whenunfuUied  by  the 
commilTiOn  of  any  crime,  concludes,  al  is  !  v^ry  dif- 
ferently ironi  that  which  has  been  Ipent  in  Sohtude, 
in  innoce.ice.  in  virtue* 

As  ex:i ;  terches  more  eiitclually  than  pre- 
cept, ?-S  cuii  n'y  is  mere  ?hve  to  recent  fa<51-s  than 
to  remcle  trarJ::ccions,  I  fhall  here  relate  the  hifiio- 
tv  of  a  man  o^h:  dly  and  fafiiion,  who,  a  few  years 
fince,  (hit  hiiniVif  in  i^ondon  ;  from  which  it  will 
ap;ear,  thnt  rr.  -  n,  poiieiTed  ev^n  of  the  berl  felings 
of  the  heart,  may  be  rendered  extremely  miftrable, 
by  fufxering  their  principles  to  be  corrupted  by  the 
pradic.'S  of  the  vvorli. 

Tiie  Honorable  Mr.  Darner,  the  eklefb  fon  of 
Lord  >>iit  n,  v/;-  f  v;-and-thiriy  years  of  age  when 
he  put  a  pcii  ;J  to  h]?.  exifience  by  means  perfe^lly 
correfp:);. dent  to  ihe  principi  rs  on  which  he  had  hv- 
ed.    lie  had  eip  uiea  a  rich  hcirefs,  the  daughter- 
indaw  of  General  Conway.    Nature  had  endowed 
him  with  extraordinary  talenrs  j  and  if  he  had  em- 
ployed them  to  nobler  purpofes,  his  death  mufl  have 
made  the  deepeii  inip:  n  every  bofom.  Un- 

happily, howevjr,  an]....  ....luated  love  of  difiipa- 

tic:^  dvilroyed  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  loms 


Ttx  Injhicr.ce  of  ScFiiud^,  ^ 

1  he  more  excellent  qualides  of  his  heart.  His 
iifvfs,  his  carriige?,  his  hories,  his  liveries,  fur- 
in  ir.agniEc.-nce  and  tle^rance  every  thing  that 
.Uumpmou?;  in  V.e  nietrcpzlis  of  England.  The 
i  :"cm  ?  h?  ei!j':^yed  was  (plendid;  but  not  being 
:ii;e  niliicie't  to  defray  all  his  expences.  he  felt 
iifeif  under  the  necefTity  cf  borrcv/ing,  and  he 
3t  lined  a  Inn  of  one  hundred  and  t\ven*y  thcu* 
id  pounds.    A  hrge  portion  of  the  money  was 
mediately  employed  to  fuccor  thofe  of  his  friends 
ho  ?-pp eared  t3  be  diftrefled;  fnr  his  fentiments 
,  ere  te::der  and  cornpallionate :  but  his  ferdibiliif 
t:^  the  wants  of  others  at  length  obHged  him  to  open 
l  is  eyes  to  h's  o^-n,    Tr.e  fituation  iQ  which* he 
f  .und  his  aiBiirSj  led  him  to  defpair  :  he  retired  to  a 
brothel,  fent  for  rhur  w^men  of  the  town,  and  pail- 
e.i  four  r.ours  with  ir.fiiite  gaiety  and  fpirits  iri 
i  heu'  company.    O  n  the  near  approach  of  m"dn'ght, 
lie  requeice.i  they  v»^^uld  retire;  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments afterwards,  drawing  from  his  pccket  a  \o2(S 
ed  p'fto!,  vvhxh  he  ha.^.  carried  about  with  him  all 
the  aftern-^on,  blew  out  his  brains.-   lie  had  p^ffH 
the  evening  Vvdth  thefe  women  in  the  fame  m.anner 
as  he  had  been  ufed  to  paft  many  others  witii  dif* 
ferent  women  cf  the  fime  defcription,  without  in- 
fillm^  on  f  :v3rs  which  they  would  mofc  willingly 
have  granted.    J  he  common  converfation  of  fuch 
intervie-;/?,  or  at  mo'1  the  liberty  of  a  falute,  was 
all  he  defired  or  expecled  from  them  in  return  for 
his  money.'  The  gr.uitude  he  felt  for  the  temporary 
oblivion  which  thele  intercourfes  occafioned,  ripen- 
ed in  his  b jfom  all  tne  feehngs  of  ihe  wannell 
friendChip. 

A  celebrated  actrefs  on  the  London  theatre, 
V7]\o^e  cG'ivj^r/atisns  had  already  dr.-ioed  him  cf  ccn- 
iiderable  lurns  of  money,  requafted  cf  him,  only 
three  days  before  his  death,  to  lend  her  nve-and- 
twenty  guireas.  He  returned  an  anfwer,  that  he 
hid  not  at  that  tiine  more  than  eight  cr  te j  guineas 

vvni) 


Z6  The  Influence  6f  Solitude, 

at  his  commaai,  and  thefe  he  fent  to  her  ;  but  he 
immediately  borrowed  the  remainder,  and  gave  her 
•the  fum  fhe  required. 

This  unhappy  young  man,  fhcrtly  befors^  the 
ftital  .cataftrophe,  had  written  to  his  f.ither,  and  dif- 
clofed  the  re:il  Hate  of  ris  alTairs  ;  and  the  night,  rhe 
very  night  on  which  he  terminated  his  exiftence,  his^ 
aiFedlijnate  parent,  the  gocd  Lord  Miltcn,  arnvedl 
ill  London,  for  the  pnrpofe  cf  payin,'>;  all  the  debts 
of  his  fon.  'J-hus  lived  and  diad  this  deiiitnte  and 
dillipated  man  !  How  (Me rent  fr-m  the  life  and 
xieath  of  the  innocent  r-nd  virtuous  1 

I  trufl  I  fnall  be  forgiven  in  reciting  here  the 
ilory  of  a  Young  Lady  whofe  raeuiory  I  am  anx- 
ious to  preferve  ;  for  1  can  v/ith  great  truth  f\y  of 
her,  ?s  Petrarch  fiid  of  his  bcl  )ved  Laurn,  The  • 
world  is  unacquainted  with  the  excelleace  of  i.er 
charaiTter ;  for  flie  was  only  known  to  thofe  \vhoDj 
Jhe  has  left  behind  to  bewail  her  fare." 

Solitude  in  her  mini  fupplied  the  pla^e  of  the 
world  ;  for  fhe  knew  no  other  pleaCures  than  thole 
"which  a  retired  arid  virtuous  life  affords.  Submit- 
ting wi'h  pious  refignation  to  all  the  difpenfaticns 
cf  Heaven,  fhe  -fu.'lained.  rdthougii  naturaUy  of  a 
weak  conllitution,  ev  .ry  alE'crion  v/ith  undiminifh- 
cd  fortitude.  Mild,  g'^od,  tender,  yet  enduring  her 
inieilant  fuirerings  without  a  murir.ur  or  a  f'gh; 
timid,  referved,  but  difclofmg  r.ll  rh?  feelings  of  her 
IguI  v/ith  a  kind  of  filial  entiuifiafm;  of  thi^  de- 
fciiption  v/as  the  fuptrior  character  of  whom  Inov/ 
write;  a  charac^rr  who  convinced  me,  by  her  for- 
titude undrr  the  fevercfl  misfcrtune-s,  how  nrach 
{treng  h  Soli'ude  is  capable  of  corveving  to  the 
raincis  e^'en  of  the  feebleil  beings.  Diffident  of  her 
own  powers,  fhe  relied  with  the  mod  perfe^l:  confi- 
dence upon  God,  and  guided  herfelf  in  every  thing 
by-my  precfcp's.  Taught  by  my  experience,  fub- 
niitting  to  my  judgment,  fne  felt  for  me  the  mcft 
..iurdcfii  a2Uu :  h  ,  and,  without  making  any  prcfei- 


7J)c  Lifiumce  cf  SolHiide* 

(ions,  convinced  me  by  her  anions  of  its  finceiity. 
Willingly  v/oukl  I  have  facrificed  my  life  to  lave 
h  -r;  and  I  am  fatisfied  fhe  would  have  given  her 
own  for  me.  My  greatcft  happinefs  cocfiiied  in 
doing  every  thing  that  I  thought  was  moil  agreea- 
ble to  her.  She  frequently  prefented  me  with  a 
rofe,  a  prefent  from  which  (he  knew  I  received  con-- 
fiderable  delight ;  and  from  her  hand  it  was  fup3- 
rior  to  rhe  richefi:  treafure.  A  malady  of  almofl  a 
fingnlar  kind,  a  hcemorrhage  of  the  lungs,  fuddenly 
deprived  me  of  the  comfort  of  this  beloved  child, 
even  while  I  ibpported  her  in  my  arms.  Acquaint-' 
edwith  her  comlitution,  I  immediately  faw  the 
.  blow  was  mortal.  How  frequently,  during  that  fa- 
tal day,  did  my  woimded,  bleeding  heart  bend  me 
on  my  knees  before  my  God,  to  implore  her  reco- 
very 1  But  I  concealed  my  feelings  from  her  obfer- 
vation.  Although  fenfible  cf  her  danger^  fhe  nev- 
er communicatvd  the  leafl  appreheniion.  Smiles 
arofe  upr.n  her  cheeks  vvhenever  I  entered  or  quit- 
ted the  chamber.  Although  worn  down  by  this  fa- 
tal dillemper,  a  prey  to  the  moft  corroding  griefs, 
the  Iharpeft  and  mofi  intolerable  pains,  fhe  made- 
no  complaint.  She  mildly  anfwered  all  my  quef- 
tior.s  by  foine  fhort  fentence,  but  without  entcrirg. 
mto  any  det';.il.  Her  decay  and  approaching  diiTo.- 
luilon  1  ecanie  ol^vieviS  to  the  eye;  1  ut  ta  the  lait 
inoinent  of  h  .r  Tie,  her  counteriacce  preftrvcd  a 
frrruity  equai  to  the  purity  of  her  mind  and  the  af- 
ic61ic  nate  ten  -'ernefs  of  her  heart. 

Ihns  1  l^thidd  my  de?r,  rr.y  only  daughter,, 
after  a  Imgcriiig  fulierance  of  nitie  loi^g  months,  ex- 
pire in  my  arms  !— Exchifive  cf  the  uiual  internal 
appe-: ranees  which  attend  a  confuinpiicn  cf  the 
iur;gs.  the  liver  was  extremely  hrge,  the  ftomacli- 
uncommonly  fmall  and  contracted,  and  the  vifc^ra. 
much  overch'.Tged.  So  many  attacks,  alas  V  were 
needlcfs  to  the  conqueit.  She  had  been  the  fubmif- 
fce  victim  of  ill  health  from  h.^r  carlieft  infancy. 


?8  The  InfAicnce  of  Solittule, 

hsr  appetite  was  almoft  gone  when  ihe  left  Switz- 
erland ;  ?.  refidence  which  fhe  quitted  with  her  uiurd 
f'westnefs  of  temper,  and  without  difcoverinp^  the 
fmidlefl  regret,  although  a  young  man,  ar.  hcindfcme  j 
in  his  perfoQ  ;:s  he  was  amiable  in  the  qualities  of  J 
his  mind,  the  cbje<5l  of  her  fii-ft,  her  only  aiieclion,"; 
'A  few  weeks  afterwards  put  an  end  to  his  exiflence ' 
in  defpair. 

1  he  f<;:w  happv  days  we  pafTed  at  Hanorer, 
where  fhe  was  rauch  rcfpeffled  and  beloved,  fhe 
amufed  herfeif  by  composing  religious  prayers, 
which  were  afterwards  foiind  among  her  papers, 
and  in  which  fhe  implores  death  to  afford  her  a  fpee- 
dy  relief  from  her  pains  :  fhe  wrote  alio  many  let« 
ters,  always  ai^edling,  and  frequently  {'iiblime,  dur- 
ing the  fame  period.  They  were  filled  with  expref- 
f  ions  of  th^  fame  defire  fpeedily  to  re-unite  her  foul 
with  the  Author  of  her  days.  The  lall  words  my 
dear,  my  weil-be loved  child  uttered,  amid  the  mcft 
painful  agoniesjwere  thefe :  "To- day!  fnall  tafte  the 
joys  of  heaven  !'* 

Weihouldbe  unworthy  of  i his  bright  exam* 
pie,  after  having  feen  the  feverefi  iiifterings  fufcain- 
ed  by  a  female  in  the  earlied  pc-ricd  cf  life,  and  of 
t::e  weakeil  conri itution  by  nature,  if  we  permitted 
our  minds  to  be  dejed&d  by  misfortunes,  when  by 
the  fm.ille.'b  degree  of  courage  we  may  be  enabled 
to  furiinunt  them.  A  female  vvho  under  the  an- 
guilhof  inexpreflible  torments,  never  permitted  ihe 
i^gh  of  c  smpiaint  to  elcape  from  her  f  ps  ;  but  fuh. 
rmtted  with  ffL-nc  refig nation  to  the  will  cf  Heaven, 
hi  h.?pe  of  meeting  with  reward  hereafter*  She 
was  ever  aftlve,invariably  mild,  ab.vays  comprffion- 
ate  to  the  miferies  of  others.  But  we,  who  have 
before  our  eyes  the  fublime  inflru^tions  wiiich  a 
charader  thus  virtuous  and  noble  has  given  us  un- 
der the  prefTure  of  a  fatal  difeafe,  uader  the  horrors 
of  continued  and  bitter  agonies  ;  we,  who  like 
her  afnire  to  the  aUuiuineiit  cf  the  glvrioiaa 


"I'y  hflvence  of  Mlivde, 

feat  of  happinefs  and  peace,  rcfufe  to  fiib- 
mit  to  tr.e  fmiUlefl:  facrifice,  miike  ro  endeavor  to 
c  ppofe  the  ilorms  of  fortune  by  the  exertion  of 
courage,  or  to  acquire  that  patience  and  refjgnation 
which  a  candid  examination  of  our  own  hearts.and 
a  filent  communion  with  God,  would  certainly  af<. 
ford. 

Senfible  and  unfortunate  beings  1'  the  lightefb. 
^ffll(5lions,  when  compared  with  griefs  like  mine, 
,drive  you,  at  prefent,  to  difquietude  and  defpiiir. 
But,  you  may  give  credit  to  experience,  they  will 
eventually  raiie  your  minds  above  the  low  confider- 
ations  of  the  wcrld,  and  give  a  ftrength  to  your 
powers  which  you  now  conceive  to  be  imponible. 
You  nov/  think  yourfelves  fuok  into  the  deepeft 
abyfs  of  fuffering  and  forrow  ;  but  the  time  will 
fcon  arrive,  wh^n  ycu  will  perceive  yourfelves  in 
that  happy  lituation  which  lies  between  an  attach^ 
ment  to  the  earth  and  R  fond  devotion  to  Heaven. 
Ycu  will  then  feel  a  calm  repofe,  be  fufceptible  of 
pleafures  equally  fubiiaaiial  and  fublime  ;  your 
minds  will  be  withdrawn  from  the  tumultuous  anx- 
ieties of  life,  and  filled  with  ferene  and  comforta- 
ble fen timenis  cf  immortality.  Bleffed,  fupremcly 
bleffed  is  that  bting  who  knows  the  value  of  a  lite 
paffed  in  retirement  and  tranquility ;  who  is  capa- 
ble of  erjoying  the  Clence  of  the  groves,  and  the  re- 
tirement of  rural  Solitude.  The  loul  then  taiies  cel- 
eftial  pleafures,  even  under  the  deepeft  impreilions 
cffjrrowaijd  dejection  ;  regains  its  firength,  ccl- 
leccs  new  courage,  and  ad;s  with  perfed  freedom. 
I'he  eye  looks  with  fteadiiiefs  on  the  tranlient  fuf- 
ferings  of  difeafe,  the  mind  no  longer  feels  a  dread 
of  Solitude,  and  we  learn  to  cuhivate,  during  the 
remainder  of  our  lives,  a  bed  of  rofes  round  even- 
the  tomb  of  death. 


The  Influence  tf  ZoUiuch, 


CHAP.  m. 

The  Influence  of  Solitude  cn  the  Mitid, 

HE  in£ilirri?.ble  value  of  liberty  can  orly 
be  conceived  by  minds  that  are  free.  Slaves  are 
forced  to  be  content  even  in  their  bondage.  He 
who  has  been  long  tcfled  abou-  by  the  vicifTitudes 
of  fortune  ;  who  has  learricd  from  ths  fuiHrings 
of  Ins  own  experience  to  form  a  jufl  eftimate  rf 
men  and  things ;  who  can  examine  every  obje£l: 
with  impartiality  :  and,  walki-::g  in  the  freep  and 
narrow  paths  of  virtue,  derive  h;.s  happinefs  frciii 
his  own  mild,  may  be  accounted  free. 

The  p'^.th  of  virtue  is,  in  foire  places  rugged  ; 
but  it  convkicls  the  mind  from  painful  ('ifficuhics. 
to  fublime  repofe,  and  gently  carres  us  over  the 
acclivities  of  Ufe  i:it^)  the  deligtufnl  a^id  extenfive 
plaii2s  of  happinefs  and  eafe.  '1  he  Icve  of  8.  iitude^ 
when  cultivated  to  a  certahi  extent  at  an  early  pi- 
I'lod  of  curhves,  infpires  the  heart  y^ith  a  noble  in- 
dependeace  j  efpecially  in  the  hrji-rits  of  thcfe  youti:s 
whofe  eafy,  U;ic:rrupt3d  f3uls  are  yet  fufcepr.ble 
cf  virtuous  impreiliors  ;  it  is  to  fuch  cliaratlers 
i^Ione  that  my  precepts  can  prove  ufeful :  it  is  to 
fuch  characters  alone  I  here  pretend  to  point  out  the. 
way  which  leads  to  true  felicity. 

I  do  not,  b  Avever,  wifh  to  condu.ri:  ihem  thro'" 
th?  paths  of  mifery  to  the  retreats  cf  Solitude,  but 
would  rat'xr  induce  them  to  feek  re tir em.ent  from  a. 
d"'ilike  to  diinpation,  a  diliafie  to  the  idle  pleafures 
of  life,  a  contempt  for  the  treacherous  pr.  feffion  cf 
the  world,  a  dread  of  beirg  fcduced  by  its  iniinua- 
ting  and  deceitful  gait-tlrs. 

Mc»ny  men  have  acquired  and  experivmced  in 
ScV.tu^'ethat  fupmcr.ty  of  genius  wbxich  enables 
its  poiTefT^jrs  to  coiniDaiid  events.    Like  the  majef- 


The  Irjfitencs  f  SolitiL-fe.  f?y 

■ :  cedar  which  braves  the  fu^y  cf  the  w'-lier:  wind, 
iherc  are  many  chan  pior.s  of  vir.u=  who  have  re- 
fiiied  in  rerirf  ment  th-e  ftcrrns  cf  vice.  It  has  in- 
desd  happened,  that  f:.me  men  h-ave  retained  even 
in  Solitud;!  ail  the  v/cakneil-.-s  cf  human  nature  ; 
but  there  are  alio  r?.anv  others  who  have  proved 
that  wife  men  caiynot  beccrne  degenerate  even  in 
the  mofl  dreary  feclufion.  Vifited  by  the  auguft 
fpirltc  of  the  drad,left  to  lilt  en  to  taeir  ov/n  th.uights, 
and  feduded  from  tr.e  fight  of  every  breathing  ob- 
jecc,  they  mufl  converfe  with  God  alone. 

There  are  tv/o  periods  of  life  in  which  Solitude 
becomes  peculiarly  u refill  ;  in  yciirh,  to  acquire  a 
fund  of  uieful  information,  to  form  tre  outline  cf 
the  character  we  mean  to  fupp:  rt,  and  to  fix  (he 
modes  of  thinking  we  ougHt  tbrouvh  life  invaria- 
bly to  purfue  :  in  age,  to  cafe  a  ret rofpedive  eye 
on  the  courfe  cf  life  we  have  led,  to  rcfl^cl  on  the 
events  that  have  happened^  upon  all  the  flowers  wa 
have  gatr.ered,  upon  ail  tne  tempells  we  have  fur- 
vived. 

Lf~ird  Bolingbroke  f.^ys,  that  there  is  not  a 
deeprr  nor  a  finer  obfervatir  n  in  all  lord  Baccn^S 
works  than  the  foUowiag,  We  Eiud  chocfe  be- 
times fuch  virtiious  ohj^^s  as  are  proportioned  to 
t'-.e  means  we  have  c  f  piuiuing  th-in,  and  as  belong 
par;icuhrly  to  xhejathis  we  are  in,  and  the  cudes 
cf  thcfe  (tatij-ns.  We  mail:  dctermim  and  f.x  our 
in!rr.:!s  in  fuch  manner  lipt  n  them,  that  the  purfuic 
cf  thfem  may  become  the  hufmcfs^  the  attainment  cf 
them,  the  endo^  cur  whoh  lives.*  Thus  we  in.  11 
imijate  the  gre?.t  cperations  of  nature,  and  net  the 
feeble,  flov/,  and  irnperfecl:  operaticns  of  ai't.  We 
muft  not  proceed,  in  forming  the  moral  character, 
?-s  a  flatuarv  proceeds  ia  forini?'g  a  ftatue,  vrho 
works  fometim^s  on  the  face,  lbm.etiines  cn  one 

•'  Lord  Bslingbrclcc,  in  hi?**  Idea  of  a  Patri'^t  King:,"  has  par^ 
aphraled  the  or>ginai,  Ut  cojuinuo  vercat  rttffoimec  fe  an'n>.UF> 
una  opera,  in  vJrrutes,"  in  order  :o  apolj  it  v/uh  greater  cfitii  to  the 
eccdlio.'i  for  which  he  (juotes  it. 


The  Injluenee  tf  Mttude. 


p^rt,  and  foinetlmes  cn  another  ;  but  we  muft  pro- 

ceed,and  it  is  i  i  our  power  to  proceed  as  nature  does 
in  forming  afiovver,oranyotherof  her  proJuctioRs; 
rudirnenta  pOrrtium  minium  ftmul  farit  ct  producit  \  fhe 
throws  cut  altogerj^er  *.r.d  at  CRce  the  whole  fyflem 
of  every beirg.and  the  ru(;imentsof  all  (he  pirts/' 
Ye  amiaole  yeuths,  from  whofe  minds  the  ar- 
tifices and  gaiedes  of  the  world  have  not  yet  obht-- 
erated  the  precepts  of  a  virtuous  education  ;  who 
are  not  yet  infected  with  its  ir<glcricus  vanities  y 
who,  ilill  ignorant  of  the  tricks  and  blandifhnients 
of  feduftion,  have  preferved  in  your  fouls  the  defire 
to  p:/rforra  fome  glorious  a(n:ion,  and  retained  the 
power  to  accomplifh  it  ;  who,^in  the  midfi;  of  feaii- 
ing,  dancing,  and  alTemblies,  feel  an  inclination  to 
efcape  from  their  linfatisfa^ii'jry  delights.  Solitude, 
will  aiicrd  you  a  fafe  afiduiti.  Let  tre  voice  of  ex^ 
psrience  recommend  you  to  cultivate  a  fondnefs  for 
dcme'iic  pleafures,  to  roufe  and  fortify  your  fouls 
to  noble  deeds,  to  acquire  that  fine  and  noble  fpirit 
wnich  teaches  you  to  elliinate  the  characters  of  men- 
and  the  pleafures  of  fDciety,  by  their  intrinfic  value. 

You  will  find  it  abiclutely  neceffary  to  force 
yourfelves  from  a  world  too  trifling  acd  infjgnifi- 
cant  to  atlord  you  any  gre;it  examples.  It  is  iniiud- 
ying  the  characters  of  the  Greeks,  the  Romans, 
the  Englifh,  that  you  mmx  learn  to  iurmouat  every 
difHcLilty.  In  what  nation  will  you  find  more  cel- 
ebrated iafiances  of  human  gr^atnefs  ?  What  peo- 
ple poiTefs  more  valour  and  courage,  more  finmefs, 
more  knowleJge,  a  greater  love  for  the  arts  and 
fcicnces  ?  Eur  do  not  deceive  yourfelves,  by  believ- 
ing that  wearing  hair  cut  fix>rt  will  make  you 
Englijbmen,  Ycu  mult,  iniiead  of  that,  eradicate 
the  vices,  fubdue  tiie  wecknefTes  of  your  nature. 


It  is  ihe  love  of  hberty,  the  qaalities  of  courage, 
pene^rariop.,  fubliiiiiiy  of  fentiments,  and  frrength- 
of  reafvn,  that-conrutut^  the  true  EngHfiman^  ai^d 


and  only  imitate  them  in  thei 


The  Irfluence  of  SrJituJe, 

rot  their  ralf  boots  and  jockey  hats.  Tt  h  virtue 
alone,  and  not  titles^  that  elevate  the  charadlers  of 
men.  iVn  iiluilricus  defcent  is  certainly  an  advan- 
tage, but  not  a  merit.  I  honor  you  for  hdvin^ 
already  farmed  n.  proper  eft: mate  of  thefe  fpIeRuid 
trifles,  fvir  biiving  already  lei^med  that  he  who  ven- 
erates fuch  htrle  objefts  can"  rever  attoiin  to  great- 
uefs.  Let  women  only  hoafi  of  heredit?.ry  defcent, 
cf  a  lino  of  anceftors,  v/ho,  during  a  courfe  of  cen- 
turies, were  perhaps  diftinguifhed  from  the  refi:  ef 
mankind  merely  by  the  fplendcr  of  their  equipage, 
while  the  humble  citizen  was  forced  to  fciiow  on 
foot.  In  tracing  your  genealogies,  reckcn  thofe  on- 
ly among  the  number  of  your  aacefiors  who  have 
performed  Ibme  great  and  glorious  aclion,  whofe 
fame  fhines  vntri  briiliaiicy  iu  every  pags  of  their 
country's  hiltory,  and  ^^hofd  char^<Sl-ers  are  cited 
with  applaufe  and  admiration  in  diibnt  nations ; 
but  never  lole  fight  of  this  important  tru,th,  that  no 
one  can  be  truly  great  without  a  knowledge  cf 
himfelf. 

In  yeur  journey  through  life,  two  ways  lie 
cpen  to  your  choice.  The  one  will  conduct  ycu 
to  a  fragi-ant  garden,  through  dehghtfui  groves, 
perfumed  with  the  fweeteft  odours,  where  a  ver- 
dant bed,  bedecked  h  rofes,  will  invite  yourin-» 
chanted  fenfesto  a  foft  repofe  ;  this  is  the  path  cf 
pleafure  which  the  mul  itude  are  eafily  frduced  to 
follow,  and  v/here  -muiic,  dancing,  and  love,  offer 
to  ei^ery  fenfe  fuch  variety  of  delight.  The  other 
is  a  lefs  frequen'ed  way,  rugged  and  uneven,  the 
progrefs  through  it  flow — wr.ere,  while  the  v/earied 
piifteiiger  toils  along,  he  frequently  tumbles  down 
feme  dangerous  precipice,  which  to  him  appeared 
at  greater  difta^ice.  Here  the  cries  cf  fav?.ge  ani- 
mals clone  are  h  ^ard,  the  inCv^lTant  croaking  of  the 
boding  raven,  the  fnyrp  and  fliivering  hiiles  of  the 
wilv  ferpent;  and  the  fiient,  unbounded  defart 
which  rcig;is  arcuud,  icfpire  the  mind  with  terror 


^4  Influence  of  Solitude, 

and  alTrig^^t.  The  path  of  pleafure  leads  us  to  iher 
world  i  the  rude  and  rugged  way  is  the  read  to 
honor.  The  one  ccndufts  you  through  fociely  to 
places  and  employments  either  in  the  city  or  at 
court ;  the  other,  fooner  or  later,  will  lead  you  in- 
to Solitude.  Upon  the  one  road  you  will  perhaps 
become  a  villain ;  a  villain  rendered  dear  and  ami- 
able by  your  vice  to  fcciety.  Upon  the  ether  road, 
it  is  true,  you  may  be  hated  and  defpifed  ;  butycu- 
will  become  a  man  ;  a  man  after  my  own  heart. 

The  rudiments  of  a  great  character  muft  be 
formed  in  Solitude.  It  is  there  alone  that  the  fo- 
lidity  of  thought,  the  fondnefs  of  sftivity,  the  ab- 
horrence of  indolence,  which  conliitute  tl:e  hero 
and  the  fiige,  are  fini  acquired.  Many  celebrated 
Germans  of  my  acquaintance  lived  folitary  lives,- 
unconr;e<fled  with  fociety,  during  their  rcfidence  atr 
the  Uaiverfity.  Tliey  fhunned  the  fafhionable  vi-. 
ces  of  the  collegians,  and  preferved  their  native  pu- 
rity ;  they  adopted  a  ftoicrfra,  and  preferved  not 
only  their  cha)  city,  but  their  application  to  ftudy,. 
They  are  now  become  miniflers  of  ftate,  celebrated 
writers,  and  great  philofcphers,  who  have  difFufed 
wifdom,  banifhed  prejudice,  and  from  their  earlieft 
youth  opened  new  roads  in  life  utterly  unknown 
to  vulgar  minds. 

A  tribute  of  the  h'gkefc  gratitude  is  due  to  the- 
noble  chara(51:er  who  has  obi'erved,  '*  When  ycu 
behi  ld  a  youth  of  lid  parts  withdrav/  himlelf  from 
thi  woria,  fall  into  a  lew  and  melancholy  humor, 
become  fibnt  in  company,  and  tellify  by  the  le- 
verity  of  his  manners  and  ccidneis  cf  his  feeling?, 
that  the  contempt'. "tie  brings  v/i'.h  whom  he  has  af- 
fociated  have  ir.fpired  his  ilul  with  difguft ;  if  you 
perceive  that  his  mind  emits  its  rays  I  ke  flafiies  cf 
lightning  m  the  obfcurity  of  a  dark^  night,  and 
then  falls  into  a  long  and  filent  calm  ;  if  you  difco- 
v.r  that  he  feels  himfelf  fiirroundeJ  by  a  painful 
i^old,  and  that  every  objed  which  prefents  itfc-if 


The '  Irtpueme  cf  Sola  t,\  h,  f ; 

©nl?  infpires  his  miii'l  with  new  ^.verficn  and  dif- 
guft ;  you  '.hen  b':'hold,  notwlthflanding  hekas  not 
openly' complahied,  an  happy  planr,  v/h:ch  only  re- 
quir.-3  the  cultivaiiori  of  a  jiulijious  hand  to  bring 
tonh  its  fi'uits,  and  d'T-h-i'^^  its  beaut'e?.  O  !  ap- 
ply to  it  3  follering  It  will  becrme  worthy 
cf  your  kind^.sfG :  ?.nd  he  who  flops  th3  progrefs  of 
its  iife,  is  tlie^  moP:  detdlab'ie  cf  murdtrcrs." 

To  rsar  a  youch  of  this  drf:ripti  jn  wj'iild  form 
th2  joy  and  pleifii'a  of  my  future  days,  I  would 
nourilh  hiTi  in  my  v^ry  he?!rt.  I  would  watch  over 
him  with  th--  tender  ell  c^re.  I  would  conceal  his 
growing  virtues  from  th?  j  ?abus  and  inrlignancob- 
iervaiion  of  envious  eyes;  prevent  their  endeavors 
to  fuppref^  the  eScrrs  cf  a  geriius  furpailir-g  ti:eir 
ov/n  ;  and  with  a  fiogle  whifper  I  w  .uLi  drive  away 
thofe  noxious  venxin,  enervate .i  and  infipid  men 
of  f afnion,  from  my  he-dthfui  plant.  If,  however, 
iu:h  an  amiable  youth  did  not  imm.ediately  liften  to 
my  voice,  and  become  obe.^ient  to  my  precepts ;  if 
he  did  not  edtogcthtr  dciplie  the  manners  of  the 
world,  I  would  let  him  ccc^lionally  fiil  among  t':e 
rocks  of  life,  and  permit  him  to  be  gently  wrecked 
in  fituations  w^hereexpsrien  e,  deli':ient  of  the  pow- 
ers cf  youth,  wouLi  have  ef:aped  from  danger. 

Solitude  fometimes  begets  a  degree  of  airo- 
gance  and  obftinacy ;  but  a  iittle  experience  in  the 
world  foon  er.-dicates  thefe  defe^i:^.  The  mifan- 
thr:py  of  thefe  noble  youths,  their  contempt  of  fol- 
ly ai.d  their  pride  of  fpirir,  change  by  the  maturity 
of  age  into  dignity  cf  character,  and  give  them  a 
mere  generous  it'itrepidity,  a  more  exalted  cotitempt 
cf  thv.t  fear  which  youth  naturally  entertain  in  the 
fociety  of  men.  The  fatires  they  once  dreaded  then 
iofa  all  their  keennef*?,  and  only  form  a  coiitr.^fl  of 
what  things  are  with  what  they  ought  to  be.  Their 
contempt  for  vice  rifes  into  a  noble  enthuiiafm  for 
•vh-tue  ;  and  they  exir^cTt  from  the  long  iatellectual 
•WvU:  of  experience  a  complete  knowledge  of  th« 


96  The  hfiicnce  of  Solitude* 

world,  and  a  compaffion-ite  feellrgv/hich,  however 
it  may  occs-fionaliy  Iw^ rve,  w-ll  never  die. 

But  there  is  alfo  a  Ic'eace  of  the  hesrt  too  fre- 
quently neplicte:!,  and  with  which  it  is  nrxefi-^ry, 
at  ieail  as  far  as  it  is  pv^fhldv^.  to  fimiliarife  cnrrelves 
in  early  youth.  Tnis  is  the  noble  fcif nee  of  philo- 
fophy,  which  forms  the  characters  of  mec,  v/hich 
teaches  vis  to  attnlii  the  end  we  wifl:!  rather  by  the 
biandifhine-its  of  love  than  by  th  eiil  rts  of  power ; 
a  fcience  which  correclr.  the  ccid  dilates  cf  reafoa 
by  the  warm  feelings  of  the  hep.rt,  opens  to  vif  w 
the  d?.ngcrs  t-^  v/iiich  l-'ey  are  expofed,  r.nimates  the 
dormant  {'icnllier,  cf  t^e  ir'w-i^  aud  prompts  thtm  to 
the  practice  cf  all  he  virrues. 

Dion  had  been  brought  up  In  all  the  bafencfs 
and  fervili  y  of  courts;  he  w.^.s  accuilomed  to  a 
fife  of  ibftnefs  an.i  eitenfmacy,  and,  which  is  more 
pernicious,  to  allu  of  greai  uiagnificence.profufion, 
and  pieafure  cf  every  kind :  but  no  f^oner  had  he 
read  the  divine  Plato.  !  o  fooner  had  he  tailed  of 
that  r.^fiaed  philof -phy  which  leacfs  to  a  life  of  vir- 
tue, than  his  v/hole  foul  became  deeply  enamcred 
of  its  charms. 

The  inrpiraiiou  vrhich  Dion  caught  from  read- 
ing the  v/orks  cF  Fiato,  every  mother  may  filently, 
?.nd  unprrccived,  pour  ic<-o  t  he  mind  cf  her  child, 
Fhilcf'.phy,  from  the  I'.ps  of  a  wife  and  fenficle  mo- 
ther,  penetrates  icto  the  inir.d  tlu'cugh  the  feelings 
of  the  heart.  Who  is  not  fxad  of  walking  even 
through  the  rcug'^efl:  and  v:i<\  difficult  path,  whc-n 
conduci:ed  by  the  i.and  they  l.  *ve  ?  What  fpecies  cf 
iailruclion  Cc- a  excel  the  fv.'e  si  ieffons  which  proceed 
from  a  female  mind  endowed  with  a  found  under- 
fi.anding,  an  elevated  flylc  of  thinking,  and  whofe 
heart  feels  all  the  alTeftion  that  her  precepts  ii'fpTe  ? 
Oh  1  may  every  mother  {0  endowed,  be  bleffei  with 
a  chdd  who  fondly  retires  with  her  to  her  cl:fet, 
and  liniens  with  delight  to  her  inflruclbns  :  who, 
widi  a  book  ia  ui;^  pockety  loves  to  climb  among 


The  influence  of  Soufude*  pj 

the  rocks  alone ;  who,  when  engaged  in  rural  fpDrt, 
throws  hlmielf  at  the  foot  of  fome  venerable  tree, 
and  feeks  rather  to  trace  out  great  and  illuftrious 
characters  in  the  pages  of  Plutarch,  than  to  toil  for 
game  in  t'he  thickets  of  the  furrounding  wood. 
The  wiflies  of  a  mother  are  accompliflied  when  the 
Solitude  and  filence  of  the  forefts  excite  fuch. 
t'loughts  in  the  mind  of  her  beloved  child  ;*  whea 
he  begins  to  thmk  that  there  are  flill  greater  cha- 
raclsrs  than  the  Burgomafter  and  counfellor  of  the 
town,  or  even  than  the  noble  Lord  of  the  furround- 
ing villages  ;  charaft^rs  who  enjoy  more  pure  and 
elevated  pleafures  than  the  gaming-table  or  affem- 
blies  are  capable  of  affording ;  characters  who  at 
.every  interval  of  leiiure  feek  the  fhades  of  Solituda 
with  rapture  sud  delight ;  in  whofe  minds  the  love 
of  literature  and  philofophy  has  dwelt  from  their 
^arlieft  infancy.;  whofe  hearts  thefe  {Indies  have 
warmed  and  animited  at  every  fubfequent  period 
of  their  lives ;  and  v/ho  amidll  the  greatelx  dangers 
preferve  that  delightful  tatte  which  has  power  to 
banilh  melancholy  from  th'^  deepell  cavern,  and  de- 
jection from  the  mplt  frightful  defjrt. 

But  fuppofe  a  fon  thus  educated  at  length  .fix- 
ed in  the  metrop'^lis ;  think  how  every  phjeO:  muft 
excite  difgufl  in  his  b'reafi:,  and  render  h:m  unhappy* 
it  is  therefore  proper  to  inftru^t  him,  that  a  wife 
and  feiifible  man,  whatever  may  be  his  fituation  in 
life,  his  age,  or  the  country  he  inhabits,  may  find 
in  Solitude  innumerable  refources  againft  the  infi- 
pidity  of  fociety,  and  all  the  falfe  and  deceitful  joys 
of  the  world. 

The  provincial  tov/ns  poffefs  many  advantages 
over  great  and  popular  cities,  by  bringing  us  back 
to  a  knowledge  of  ourfelvcs.   With  what  fuperior 

*  Mirum  eft,"  (fays  the  youngcj  Pliny)  "  ut  onimes  agitatione 
motuq'je  corporis  excitetur.  Jam  undique  filvse  et  Solitudo,  ipforum- 
que  iifiud  fjlentiuU;  q^iod  venationi  dacyr,  ma^na  cogitationis  inciu- 
jueota  funt." 

(iX) 


9$  The  hifdime  &f  Mf-ude, 

pleafure  do  we  pafs  our  time,  how  mudi  more  lei- 
fore,  liberty,  and  quietude  we  erjoy  in  an  humble 
village,  than  in  a  great  city,  where  the  mind  is  con- 
tinually diilraQed  by  t©o  great  variety  of  ol:je6k ! 
Here  we  live  contented  with  ourfelves,  without  be- 
ijig  every  morning  tormented  with  a  numl  er  of 
-meffages,  by  inceiO^ant  propofals  of  feme  new  fcheme 
to  kill  the  day.  Here  we  are  not  neceflitated  to 
facrifice  every  dcmeilic  care,  all  the  occupations  of 
the  Kiiod,.even  the  fweet  converfe  of  thofewelove^ 
to  endlefs  villts.  The  quietude  of  rural  retirement 
affords  us  opportunity  to  follow  the  courfe  of  our 
fentimenrs  and  ideiSj  to  examine  wheiher  they  are 
juft,  before  we  determine  our  ch'-  ice ;  in  great  ci- 
^fies,  on  the  contrar3",  men  a£l:  firft,  and  reflecl  on 
their  conducl  afterwards.  In  a  village,  the  im- 
preffions  we  receive  are  more  lively  and  prcfcund ; 
whilB:  in  great  cities,  time  is  entirely  employed  to 
create  amufements  v/hich  vanifh  the  moment  they 
are  approached ;  the  bofom  enjoys  no  repofe,  and 
while  it  fighs  for  refl,  the  hops,  defire,  ambition, 
duty,  languor,  difgufl,  and  coutrition  which  it  eter^ 
nally  feels,  drive  it  for  ever  away. 

But  the  minds  of  thofe  who  have  retired  to  the 
calm  fcenes  of  rural  life,  are  frequently  as  vacant 
and  defertcd  as  the  hamlets  in  which  ihey  live  ;  and 
tkey  find  the  leifure,  the  happy  leifure  which  they 
enjoy  without  knowing  its  value,  tedious  and  irk- 
fome.  There  are,  inde;ed,  very  few  who  have  ac- 
quired the  art  of  renierixng  Solitude  ufeful  and  ra- 
tional. Men  of  rank  proudly  fancy  that  their  ho- 
nor would  be  degraded  by  the  company  of  ruilics, 
and,  in  confequence  cf  this  miflaken  idea,  prefer  a 
life  of  conftrainti  avoid  z\\  intercourfe,  and  live  in 
fplendid  languor,  rather  than  enjoy  a  free  and  happy 
life  with  rational  and  honed  peafants.  They  ought 
to  adopt  a  conduct  diredly  the  reverfe,  efpecially 
wheu  they  are  difcoEtented  with  themfelves  :  tbev 
ought  to  iQi^  fsDailiurly  in  the  company  of  all  honeft 


the  Lifiuence  of  SoUiude,  9^ 

men,  and  acquire  the  efteem  of  every  one  by  theif 
kindnefs  and  attention. — The  lowliefl:  clown,  cap?> 
l>le  of  communicating  a  new  thought,  or  of  railing 
one  agreeable  fentiment  in  tb.e  mind,  is  on  that  ac* 
count  a  very  inierefting  compauion  to  a  man  who 
is  at  a  lofs  how  to  employ  his  time,  who  is  torment- 
ed by  vexation  and  ill-humor.  Thofe  to  whom 
time  is  a  burden,  fhould  not  defpiie  even  the  hum-- 
blefl  character ;  and  in  the  rural  retreat,  the  (hep- 
rerd  and  the  kii^g  fnould  live  on  equal  terms,  for- 
get the  paltry  dcftrines  of  birth,  and  all  the  prejn* 
dices  which  the  m.anners  of  the  world  have  ri^iled 
refpe (Sting  the  diiTercnce  of  their  fituaticn.  Thi's 
conduct  would  at  leafl  be  mere  pleafirg  than  to  hear 
a  rUaic  reproaching  the  venality  cf  the  nobility, 
only  becaufe  the  gentlemen  of  his  neighborhcod  re- 
fufed  to  admit  him  into  their  company. 

The  ooly  way,  as  it  appears  to  me,  by  which 
men  of  diP>:ir.(^ion  can  live  happily  in  the  country,  is 
to  adapt  themfelves  peaceably  and  affably  to  every 
one  ;  to  feel  and  to  exercife  an  univerfal  attenticn 
and  kind  concern  fcr  the  comfort  cf  others,  ard  to 
grant  them  as  much  of  their  time  and  converfatioa 
as  they  fhall  thir.k  proper. 

It  is  im.poilible  to  conceive  what  advantage^ 
the  mind  gains  in  the  Solitude  of  a  fequeflered  vil- 
la!7e,  v/lien  it  once  begins  to  feel  difguii  at  the  tire- 
fome  interccurfes  of  the  great  wcrld.  Life  is  \\i> 
where  fo  completely  enj-yed ;  the  happy  days  cf  . 
ycut'i  are  no  v.  her  ^^  m.';re  ad  va  .tage  ruOy  emplry^ed  ; 
u  r?.tional  iHir.d  can  no  whc-re  iind  gn*ater  cpportu*. 
nides  cf  emplrying  its  time;  the  da':gr-rs  even  of 
Schtude  itielf  ara  no  uhere  f'^.oner  k-arne  ;  or  more 
eiiily  avoide.i.  Eveiy  litile  village  may  be  coniider^ 
ed  as  a  convent,  w  er^  a  iincll  f.  cieiy  of  pevfoi^s-, 
diftant  and  detiched  fr-m  t'^e  world,  are  confii^ed 
to  lew  k^eas ;  where,  for  that  reafon,  the  p-^^llio'^s 
cf  the  wicked  ferment  and  diicharge  themfches 
with  greater  force ;  and  wliere  the  calm  and  koneft 


loo  The  Influence  of  Solitude* 

minds  muB:  aiTociate  with  congenial  chara£i:ers,  tie 
retire  to  Soiitude  in  their  humble  cells. 

Small  towns  refemble  each  other  ia  certain  ma- 
terial points,  and  only  differ  in  the  manner  by  whi-;h 
they  are  governed.  The  mind  is  never  fubjecled  to 
;i  more  odious  tyranny  t!:an  that  which  prevails  in 
thefe  little  republics  ;  where  not  only  the  rich  citi- 
zen erefts  himfclf  into  a  proud  mailer  over  his  lefs 
wealthy  equals,  but  where  the  contracted  notions 
of  this  little  delpot  become,  if  unoppofed,  thefbmd- 
ard  of  reafcn  to  all  the  town* 

The  members  of  fmall  repubkcs  care  only  for 
themfelves,  and  feel  little  anxiety  about  any  thing 
that  paHes  beyond  their  own  limits.  The  all-pov/- 
erfui  and  imperious  governor  confiders  his  little  ter- 
ritory as  the  univerle.  His  breath  alone  decides 
every  queftion  that  is  prcpofed  at  the  Guiid-Hall ; 
and  the  reft  of  his  time  is  wholly  occupied  in  main- 
taining his  authority  over  the  minds  of  his  feliow- 
ciiizeiis,  in  relating  anecdotes  of  families,  circulating 
fuperilitious  tales,  tiuldng  of  the  price  cf  corn,  the 
collecdon  of  tythes,  the  rent  cf  his  m.anors,  hay- 
harveft,  vintage-tim?,  cr  the  next  marker.  Next 
to  God,  he  is  within  his  own  httle  town  t:  e  great- 
efl  man  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  humble, 
honeft  citizen  Hands  v/ith  fear  and  trembling  in  the 
prefeace  of  his  redoubtable  majefly ;  fer  he  knows 
tnat  he  is  able  to  ruin  him  by  an  immediate  procefs. 
The  v/rath  of  an  upflart  m.agiitrate  is  more  terrible 
than  the  thunder  cf  Heaven  ;  for  this  foon  paiTes 
nway,  but  th  it  remains  for  ever,  'i  he  good  judg- 
es of  a  provincial  town  raiie  their  proud  heads,  and 
look  down  with  contempt  on  the  liumble  fuitors ; 
govern,  order,  cenRrre,  and  condem;^,  without  re- 
gard to  truth  or  juf-ice ;  and  their  approbation  or 
dillike  eitabliflies  in  credit,  or  conhgns  to  infamy.' 

The  inhabitants  of  thefe  towns  are  in  general 
much  addidied  to  Law  :  an  attorney  is  in  their  eyes 
the  brigh^eft  genius  j  the  facred  voice  of  tleafon  i> 


Tks  hifdUYice  of  Solitude, 


_  an  empty  found  ;  in  vain  fhe  cries  aloud,  for  they 
only  believe  that  right  which  the  court  of  juflice 
fhill  decree.  If  one  among  them  fhould  abfenC 
himfelf  from' their  meetii^gs,  an  J,  yielding  to  reflec- 
tion, ihould  think  and  a£i:  with  hber^lity  or  candor, 
they  fufpe<^l:  him  of  fome  intention  to  impofe  on 
them  ;  for,  except  in  the  rehgious  order,  they  have 
no  idea  of  a  fludious  m.iv\\  and  language  will  net 
furnifh  any  word  expreffive  of  the  high  contempt 
in  which  they  hold  a  literary  chara^ler.  They  are 
ignorant  that  reafon  and  fuperftition  are  contradi6lory 
terms.  The  man  who  fmilts  at  their  credulhy  in 
believing  that  fome  misfortune  is  impending, '  be- 
caufe  an  hen  has  laid  her  egg  before  their  door,  a 
crow  has  croaked  upon  the  chimney-top,  or  a  mouft^ 
has  run  along  the  floor,  cannot,  in  their  idea,  pof^ 
fefs  the  leaf!:'  religion.  They  are  yet  ignorant  that 
men  are  no  longer  coofidered  free-thinkers,  for 
humbly  doubting  whether  the  frequent  fpots  in  lin- 
en announce  the  death  of  ibnie  beloved  relation. 
They  know  not,  ahs!  that  it  is  poffible  to  become 
ferviceable  to  mankind,  without  having  ever  opened 
their  lips  in  the  town-hall ;  and  that,  at  all  events, 
they  m^y  hereafter  be  neticei  by  the  really  great 

'  and  good,  notwithRanding  they  have  happened  to 
incur  the  difpleafure  of  the  great  men  in  their  little 
to\yn.  Tliey  are  unconfcious  that  there  are  men 
of  independent  fpirits  in  the  world,  and  that  ther 
are  the  only  beings  who  would  fo  tamely  endure 
a  mean  fubmifliou  to  the  little  t^^aut  of  rhsir  pocir  ^ 
domain.  Thsy  do  not  feel  that 'an  honeft  man  will 
ouly  bow  before  the  Deity  himlelf,  only  fubmit  to 
the  laws  of  his  country,  only  reverence  fuperior 
t?Je:it?,  obey  virtue,  refpc 61  merit,  and  imileat  the 
\ain  v/rath  and  ludicrous  appearance  of  the  provin- 
cial magiftraie,  whenhs  receives  him  in  anger  with 
his  h;t  upon  his  head.  They  do  not  perceive  that 
Slander,  the  common  f:ourge  of  every  country- 
towHj  is  only  the  vice  of  thofe  narrow  minds  wl;a 
{IX2) 


The  Infliiencs  ofSoUtiide* 


vifit  their  neighbor  merdy  to  fpy  cut  his  errcr?, 
and  report  with  increafed  malevclence  whatever 
they  can  find  v/rong,  either  in  his  hoiife,  his  kitch- 
en, cr  bis  cellar.  In  fliort,  they  who  are  ignorant 
of  fo  many  things,  cannot  be  apprifcd,  that  they 
would  loon  tire  of  the  idle  talk  and  chatter  cf  a 
country  town ;  that  they  would  no  longer  amufe 
themfeives  in  picking  out  their  neighbor's  faults,, 
if  they  were  once  acquainted  v/ith  the  advaotagcs 
of  Solitude  ;  with  what  a  noble  ardor  they  would 
boldly  proceed  through  the  road  of  fcir r.ce,  and, 
fuperior  to  the  meannefs  of  envy,  free  from  the 
difgrace  of  calumny,  would  Itddily  purfue  the  path 
of  virtue  with  hardinefs  and  vigr^r. 

A  determined  refolution  to  lead  a  life  of  Scli- 
tude  is  the  oiiiy  remedy  that  can  be  adopted  in  a 
£t nation  hke  this.  An  univerfld  philanthropy  for 
the  world  will  net  filence  the  tongue  cf  envy ;  for 
even  to  fuch  a  conduct  the  world  will  alw'ays  im- 
pute interefr.ed  motives ;  we  murn  tiierefore  Jive 
without  afFi  rding  fuch  opportunities  to  calumny, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  thofe  whom  v/e  love 
and  revere,  turn  our  backs  on  the  reli  of  man- 
kind. 

A  virtuous  young  man,  who  perhaps  afpires 
to  advance  himfelf  in  lifL',  will  not  in  the  world 
find  the  lead  affifiance.  In  no  one  cf  the  fafhiona- 
ble  circles  will  he  meet  with  iriformaiion  or  encou- 
ragement ;  he  will  nei-her  make  himfelf  known  nor 
beloved  ;  and  if  he  fhculd  excite  attention,  he  will 
not  be  underiiood ;  the;/  will  confider  him  as  a 
weak,  ridiculous  chara&r,  wlio,  in^ead  cf  feeking 
by  adulation  to  gain  the  i  -.terefl:  of  tha  great  and 
Dowerful,  prefers  the  pleafure  of  writing  or  reading 
by  himieif.  In  v.dn  has  he  been  reared  in  the  bo- 
fom  cf  a  liberal  and  erlightened  family ;  in  vain 
has  he  receive -^l  his  education  among  the  nobleft 
ch2r?<fi:ers  ;  in  vaij,  2 re  his  principles  eflablifhed  by 
a  correfpondeace  witii  the.  belt  aud  moit  karnea 


The  Influence  of  Solitude,  lo.if 

pV  ilol^^phers  of  the  ?.ge ;  for  thefe  advantages  only 
altord  greater  inducement  to  cpprefs  his  a<51:ivity 
and  ilop  his  courfe. 

Does  the  ear  hear  or  the  heart  feel  all  this  ia 
a  provincial  town,  to  which  the  refineinents  of  the 
metropcKs  have  not  yet  fpread?  What,  man  will 
Gontinue  to  patronize  him,  unleis  he  becomes  dex- 
trous in- affording  ufeful  accommodation  to  thofein 
whofe  hands  the  v/ncle  power  refides  ;  from  viiioni 
alone  huDger  can  receive  broad,  or  indu.'^cry  procure 
employment ;  to  whcfe  will  every  thing  is  fubmit- 
ted  ;  who  dired:  and  govern  every  movemen  t ;  and 
by  whole  nod,  honor,  fiine,  elb:em.,  are  conferred 
or  taken  away  ?  His  mind  muft  cautioufly  conceal 
the  fuperiority  of  its  knowledge ;  his  eyes  it:Ujl  ap- 
pear blind  to  what  he  fees  ;  his  heart  feem  fenielels 
of  what  he  feels  \  he  mufl:  conftantly  li^-en  to  a 
loofe  and  frothy  converfaticny  during  v/hici^^  how- 
ever fatiguing  it  may  be,  he  is  denied  the  privilege 
of  yawning,  and  is  ruined  forever,  if,  by  hisfiience, 
he  permits  the  fhadow  of  diiTati?ficti?on  to  appear. 
He  will  be  defpifed  as  a  m.an  of  lenfe  and  ur.der- 
ftanding,  notwirhltanding  he  ufes  every  endeavor 
to  be  thought  otherwife,*  Surrounded  by  fo  much 
deformity,  both  he  and  his  friends  might  blufh  for 
v/ant  of  that  difdnguiniing  emi'^ence  upon  the  back, 
but  that  he  hears  them  gravely  talk  at  the  Hotel  da 
Viile  upon  the  important  care  of  a  iiable,  much  of- 
tenfr  than  they  meet  in  London  and  rerfadles  to  de- 
cide upon  the  fa'e  of  Europe  ;  and  muft  fic  with  as 
much  attention  to  h:ar  them  argue  upon  the  right 
of  a  partition- wah,  as  if  he  was  placed  in  the  fvnod 
of  the^  gods*  Perceiving,  therefore,  thatpretr.m.p- 
tion,  ignorance,  and  proud  nup'diry  are  infvni'.eiy 
ia  higiier  eidmation  than  tiie  noblell;  exercife  of 
reafcn ;  that  n^n  cf  the  dullen:  npprehenlions  are 

*  "  A  man  with  an  enlightened  mind,"  fays  Helvetius,  "  with 
f.'hatever  addrefs  he  may  conceal  his  cliarailer,  can  nevci  io  ex^idljit 
rctemble  a  foo]  as  a  fyol  rcfeinbics  liimieli.". 


I04  The  Influenct  of  Solitude »  ^ 

the  m  ")ri:  forward  and  impudent ;  that  their  v?jn 
and  idle  boailings  alone  model  the  wit  and  dire£l 
the  opinion  of  the  day  ;  that  envy  fafcens  itfelf  molt 
inveieratdy  upon  the  enFghtened  and  well-inform- 
ed ;  that  phihibphyis  confidered  as  a  contemprible 
deliriiini,  aiid  Ui/erty  mift.iken  for  a  fpirit  of  re- 
volt.;  perceiving,  in  iliort,  th:t  it  is  impcflihle  to 
fucceed,  uniefs  oy  means  of  the  moft  fervile  com^ 
pl:-ii[-mce.  and  the  mod  degrading  fubmifTion,  what 
can  lave  a  fenfi'de  and  ingenuous  vouth  from  the 
perils  of  fucii  a  I'eene,  but  Solitu  ie  ? 

Trie  p  jor  p^et  Martial,*  on  his  return  to  Bibi* 
lis,  the  piice  of  nis  catlvity,  in  Spain^  after  having 
lived  thirty-four  years  among  the  raoft  learned  and 
enlightened  men  of  Rome,  found  nothing  but  a 
dreary  defirt,  a  frightful  Solitude.  Unable  to  form 
a  fcciet}'  whic'i  could  affard  him  the  fmallefl:  plea* 
fur*,  a  painful  languor  pr ryed  upon  his  mind.  For^ 
ced  to  aiiociate  vvivh  perf  ns  who  felt  no  pleafure 
in  the  elega;at  delights  of  literature,  who  pofelTed 
no  ku'jwledge  of  the  fciences,  he  fighed  inceliantly 
to  re-vTit  the  beloved  metropolis  where  he  had  ac- 
quired fu"h  univerial  fpjue  aad  rpprobation  ;  where 
h's  good  fen'e,  his  penetration,  his  fagacity  were 
prailed ;  where  his  writings  were  promifed  imraor- 
taPty  by  the  admiration  of  the  younger  Pliay,  to 
whoja  they  appeared  to  pollefs  equ^  (harpnefs,  wit 
aad  eafe ;  whilil,  on  the  contrary,  in  the  fiupid 
t  jwn  of  Blbilis  his  fame  on:/  acquired  him  that 
whic-i  in  imall  cities  will  ever  attend  an  excellent 
characler,  envy  and  contempt. 

in  g.-i  rral,  however,  in  all  fmall  towns,  the 
min-1  re:  ains  by  occalional  Solitude  that  which  it 
has  b/'^  by  its  corajnerce  with  tha  world.  If  it  be 
sbiolurely  neceffary  that  you  fhould  be  abfurd 
thirough  poli.enefs,  and  blind  v/ith  your  eyes  com- 


*  AcccdU  his,"  (fa-ys  Mart"u'^  hi  the  Preface  to  the  Twelfth 
Bosk  of  bis  Epigramf  )  "  munkipaljum  r'ubigo  deutium  rijudicii  Iocq 
Dvor — aJvcifue  GUijd  dlnicUc  at  hwajsie  quotidie  beau©  ftoaaachiua.". 


The  Influence  of  S>Glitude,  r  o^ 

pictely  open  ;  ii',  in  the  infipld  circles  of  fafhion* 
yea  ar2  obliged  to  conceid  your  ideas,  and  labdu^ 
your  feelings ;  if  you  are  forced  ro  liflen  with  at- 
tention to  that  which  you  would  rather  be  deaf  th:an 
hear ;  if  you  muvl:  be  chained  to  the  flavery  of  the 
gaming-table,  altl.ough  there  is  punifhment  to 
you  fo  It  vera ;  if  every  happy  thought  nuilt  be 
flrangled  in  its  birth,  all  brilliancy  of  expreflion  fup- 
preffed.  the  looks  of  love  concealed,  and  honelt 
truth  diiguifed  ;  if  your  whole  lime  muit  be  devo-' 
ted  to  p^e^iie  characlers  w^ho  are  ignorant  of  ycur 
merit — O  refiect ! — that  in  fuch  a  fi<  nation  t'p.e 
enervated  fpirit  lies  buried  in  cold  obfcurity,  ^llks 
the  fire  in  the  flint  untouched  by  iieel ;  that  your 
foul  may  languifh  many  years  in  this  dangerous 
apathy ;  and,  making  a  noble  effort,  fly  from  the 
feafts  and  coteries  of  your  corrupted  city,  retire? 
into  the  tranquillity  of  domeftic  comfort,  feek  the 
filence  of  the  groves,  live  in  the  fociety  cf  your  owni 
heart,  and  tal-te,  as  your  reward,,  the  charms  cf  that 
ineftimable  liberty  which  you  have  fo  long  uegled:- 
ed  to  obtain. 

Freed  from  the  v/orld,  the  veil  which  dimmed 
the  fight  w^ill  immediately  vanifli ;  the  clouds  which 
obfcured  the  light  of  realbn  dKappear  ;  the  painf  ul 
bur  (hen  which  oppreHed  the  ibul  is  alleviated ;  we- 
no  longer  wi*eiTie  with  misfortunes,  becaufe  we 
know  how  to  foften  them  ;  we  no  longer  murmur 
againfl  the  difpenfations  of  Providence,  but  refie^f 
with  calmnefs  and  ferenity  on  the  advantages  we 
have  derived  from  Sohtude.  The  contented  hrart 
focn  acquires  the  habit  of  patience ;  every  corro- 
ding care  files  from  our  breafls  on  the  wings  of 
gaiety ;  and  on  every  fide  agreeable  and  interefting 
icenes  prefent  themfelves  to  our  view :  the  brilliant 
fmi  finking  behind  the  lofty  mountains,  tinging 
their  fnow-crowned  fammits  v/ith  gold  ;  the  feath- 
ered choir  haf[ening^to  th*ir  molTy  homes,  to  ralte 
the  fwccts  of  calm  repofe  \  the  proud  crowing  of 


1  c6  The  Infiience  of  SoIift:de, 

the  an^orous  cock ;  the  (low  march  of  the  oxen 
returnmg  from  their  daily  toil ;  tiie  noble  activity 
of  the  generous  Ilea  J  :  furVounded  by  fach  objedls, 
we  receive  the  vilits  of  ititruders  with  an  open  air^ 
and.  provided  they  do  not  too  frequently  interrupt 
the  pl?;ihres  of  cur  retreat,  we  reconcile  our  hearts 
to  all  mankind- 

But  it  is  iiill  more  necefiary  to  fave  ourfelves 
from  the  dangers  of  the  metropolis  than  from  thofe- 
of  the  provincial  tov/ns.  The  follies  and  vices  of 
high  lite  are  much  more  contagious  than  thofe  of 
the  fimple  citizen.  How  foon  tne  fiieft  beams  of 
ths  imagination  die  away  !  How  foon  does  good- 
nefs  ioie  its  power  where  fenfe  and  truth  are  con- 
flantiy  defpif'sd  ;  where  flrong  and  energetic  minds 
inipire  avcrfion  ;  and  the  virtues  are  thrown  afide 
as  an  inconvenient  and  opprclfive  yoke  !  How  foon 
does  the  human  raiad  become  weak  and  fuperficial, 
when  fepa rated  from  thofe  by  whom  it  might  be 
enlightened  and  adorned  !  How  fuddenly  do  all  the 
finer  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  the  noblefc  efforts 
of  tr.e  mind,  dec?.y  in  the  company  of  thcfe  cf:en- 
taticus  ch?.ra(El*r3  who  aife6l  to  difdain  all  taife,  ail 
pleaiurf s,  in  ?mxed focietiesJ^ 

great  and  fafhionable,  however,  are  in 
every  country  efreecaed  the  beff;  company  ;  but  the 

freat^  unhappily,  are  not  in  truth  always  the  befl^ 
:;wever  they  may  think  proper  to  contemn  the  in- 
ferior orders  cf  mankind.  Whoever  can  deduce 
his  nobility  through  a  courfe  of  fixteea  defcents,  the 
value  of  his  chara(51:€r  is  invariably  fixed :  the  courts 
of  princes  and  the  mar.fions  of  the  great  are  open 
to  receive  him  ;  and  where  m.erit  is  overlooked,  he 
almcft  univerially  acquires  precedency  over  the 
man  whofe  merit  is  his  ocly  recommendation ;  but 


*  Tr.e  French  is  *'  Aff'etnbleti  fam  oewvre  melee',''''  to  which  is  fub- 
jo'ined  the  following  expUiiuLicn  :  *'  The^^e,  in  the  ftyle  of  the  Cermaa 
fiobillty,  are  aflembiici  from  which  not  only  all  ccmnmters  xre  exclu^ 
4f  cij,  but  ail  thofe  whofe  ntbil'ity.  cTcn  is.  liable  to  the  leaft  fufpklon/' 


The  Infiuence  of  ^dltui^,  io7 

tbofe  qualities  wh^.ch  alone  can  render  him  valuable  - 
as  a  ma::,  his  exc-^llency  inult  l^arn  in  focieues 
vvher3  the  po-wers  of  the  r^.ind  and  th^  virtues  of 
th;  heart  elcne  confer  dignity  and  d  r.inft  on.  Let 
fuch  a  charaifter,  if  h::  n-culd  chance  to  find  one 
folitary  moment  while  h^"  is  v.  airing  in  the  anti- 
chamber  of  a  p.ince,  cx-.mine  with  rational  cslm- 
nefs  all  thofe  hi-;h  prerojTaiives  cf  which  he  is  fo 
proud ;  which,  in  his  efiimation,  pl;:ce  him  fo  much 
above  the  ordinary  level  of  mankind,  and,  induce 
him  to  retrace  his  def  :ent  to  the  creation  cf  the 
world ;  and  he  will  find,  that  titles  and  genealo- 
gies witli*ut  merit,  refemble  thofe  air-balloons 
which  rife  high  only  in  proportion  to  their  want 
of  weight. 

In  almoft  every  country,  however,  thefe  titles 
of  nobility  feparate  a  certain  clafs  of  miii  from 
their  fellow-citizans,  who  are  in  gencrol  better  in- 
fonned,  mor?  wife,  more  virtur-us,  and  net  unfre- 
qiiently  polTefled  of  that  true  nobility,  a  great  and 
konorable  chara(^er  !  I\'Iea  who  have  nothin^^  to 
depend  on  for  their  fame,  rank,  or  eftablifhment 
-in  the  world,  but  a  line  of  anceftry,  not  always  the 
moli:  refp2clable  ;  w>-0,  relying  fclely  on  the  merit 
of  their  birth,  never  feek  to  a'-quire  any  otiier,  be- 
caufe  it  is  th^  only  merit  of  which  they  h^.vs  any 
idea,  have  in  all  companies  the  higheil  precedency-* 
It  is  true,  that  fuch  men  are  generally  acquainted 
with  the  neweft  modo?  of  drcfs,  conduct  with  fupe- 
rior  Iklll  the  varying  f^diions,  ir^derllar^d  the 
ton^  exemplify  th^  etiq;  ^  "tfe  .?nd  manners  of  the  day, 
and,  conceiving  ihey  were  formed  for  the  refine- 
ments of  fenfuality  -r.nd  vrluptuocfnefs,  fancy  them- 
felvcs  of  ccurfe  endowed  Avith  the  moft  ^.elicate 
and  (t-afible  facult'es. 

Lane;uor  and  diignfi:,  however,  penetrate  ^veti 
into  thofe  illuftrious  ailemblics  from  whence  even 
the  pure  and  ancient  nobility  exclude  the  profane 
vulgar.  This  proportion  may  perhaps  at  firft  view 


To^  The  Infiucnce  of  SoJitiiS, 

appear  a  paradox.   But  liften  to  the  mariner  In 

which  a  ladV)  whof^  perfonal  qualifications  rendered 
her  more  refpeclable  than  evea  the  fpiendor  of  her 
birth,  exphlned  this  Gcnigma : 

"  1  he  vix:t]i  of  v/horn  our  fele£l  parties  are 
coiTipofed,  do  not  always  pofiefs  the  fame  talle  and 
fen*  iment  with  refpe^l  to  thefe  ailemblies  ;  hut  it 
is  fiill  more  rare  for  the  women  to  te  really  fond 
of  them,  it  is,  in  ?:eneral,  the  lot  of  the  great  to 
polTefs  a  great  deal  by  their  birth,  to  dcfire  much 
more  than  they  pofTefs,  and  to  enjoy  nothing  :  in 
confequence  of  this  difpofition,  ihey  fly  to  places  of 
public  refort  in  learch  of  each  other ;  they  meet 
without  feeliiig  ihe  fmailefl  pleafure,  and  mix 
among  the  group  without  beiag  C'bferved."— 
"  What  is  it  then  that  re-unites  them  aJf]<:ed  I. 
— "  It  is  their  rank/'  fhe  replied,  "  and  afterwards 
cufliom,  lailitude,  and  the  continual  defire  of  diffi- 
pation  ;  a  def  re  iafeparably  attached  to  perfons  of 
cur  condiiion.'' 

Since  it  is  really  p'iiible  to  experience  difgud 
and  languor  in  the  'aliemblies  and  other  entertain- 
ments of  the  gre?.t,  let  us  examine  if  Solitude  m?,y 
r.ot  have  an  ufeful.infiuence  on  the  minds  of  even 
this  cbfs  of  perfons. 

Mified  by  falfe  informatioD,  the  nobility  main- 
(aiUj  that  all  the  pleafares  of  Solitude  ceDtre  in  a 
contempt  of  the  world  and  ha'  red  of  mankind,  or, 
what  is  ftiil  w orfe,  that  mifanthrcpy  is  the  only  ba- 
fr5  on  which  they  are  founded.  On  the  contrary, 
1  am  pirfeclly  fatisfi^d,  that  their  minds  feel  much 
more  fpleen  and  mortiScaiicn  on  their  return  from 
-a  public  a^embly,  than  they  poiTeifed  when  they 
quitted  hr m.e — to  fee  the  world.  In  Schtude  there 
can  be  no  contention  :  on  the  contrary,  hcwm.any 
men  are  there  \vhc.  trequenting  public  places  with 
the  Yi-in  li  pe  r-f  enjoyirg  a  tranfient  pleafure,  find 
all  their  ad; 'reffrs  refined,  and  only  expr rience  ac- 
cumulated pain  }  The  fvber  voice  of  reafcn  is  there 


The  Injluence  of  Botitude*  I09. 

but  faintly  he:ird ;  v/hila  the  light  unmeaning  tongue 
of  folly  is  lift  ined  to  with  dilight  ;  our  intellectual,, 
coinmun'caiions  afford  no  relilh  ;  no  reciprocity  or 
fsntiinent  prevails  ;  ihe  appearance  of  fatisfa61:ion 
fequently  excites  envy,  and  a  ferenity  of  mind  is 
mlfconftrued  into  fadnels.  The  refpeclive  members 
of  a  numerous  affembly  are  in  general  acluated  by 
Fuch  different  and  cppofite  interefls,  that  it  is  im- 
pcfiible  to  reconcile  thera  with  each  other — AJk 
that  youag  and  lovely  girl.  If  in  a  public  affembly 
fhe  alwiys  experienced  the  pleafures  which  fhe  ho- 
ped to  find  ?  Afl<  her,  If  her  heart  is  not  tortured 
v/ith  ^xition  v/hen  the  rich  and  youthful  beau, 
imfafcinated  by  her  charii;s,  pays  his  addreffes  to 
fome  rival  beauty  ?  Aflc  this  rival  beauty,  What 
pangs  her  bofom  feels  when  fhe  perceives  herfelf 
1  uppian ted  by  fome  happier  fair  ?  And  let  this  lafb 
acknowledge  the  kind  of  pleafure  fhe  receives,  if 
her  admirer  pays  the  leaft  attention  even  to  the  fair 
fem^ale  whom  her  heart  adores.  Afk  that  fober 
matron  whofe  bofom  heretofore  has  felt  thefe  tor- 
ments, If  fhe  is  not  furious  almofi  when  higher 
compliments  are  pafled  on  the  beauty  of  youth, 
than  cn  the  wifdom  of  age  ? 

An  Englifh  gentleman  whom  I  met  in  Germa- 
ny, faid,  in  a  manner  extremely  p^.clurefque, 
Thsre  are  women  who  are  eternriily  jealous  that 
you  do  not  pay  them  fuificlent  refpeCl,  and  who, 
in  confequence,  affume  an  arrogance  which  would 
be  infopportable  even  in  an  em.prefs ;  while  fhe 
Hiight,  by  complacent  fmiles,  not  only  render  eve- 
ry one  about  her  pleafant  and  happy,  but  obtain 
their  admiration  and  applaufe.  The  falfe  dignity 
of  fuch  charadlers  ruiRes  their  tempers  like  the 
quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine,  or  the  feathers  of 
a  turkey-cock  in  wTath.'' 

The  m.ofi:  diilip?ted  man  muft  Turely  view  fuch 
cbar^fters  with  abhorrence  and  d'Jguft';  and  if  he 
feriouily  ieflc<fls,  how  mai-^.y  there  are  who,  carelefs 
(X) 


■iio  The  Liflmue  rf  Soktiidtf* 

of  difliijguifhing  between  appearances  atid  reality, 
feel  with  equal  indiference  the  love  of  truth  and 
dread  of  fallehood ;  how  frequcndy  t:-e  perfons 
wiiqcoHipofe  what  is  ftyled  good  cempnny,  ?.re,  ev- 
en in  the  judgment  ?.nd  cpm'on  of  their  fmcereft 
and  mod  liberal  adiiiirers,  dazzled  by  f -ife  brillian- 
cy, and  gratified  by  (he  moft  triilirg  iaformali3n; 
that  they  fhmi  with  tern)r  the  advantages  cf  reflec- 
tion, tranquillity,  and  Solitude;  that  they  prefer  a 
Jlfe  of  incaffant  diiiipation,  and  feldom  confult  their 
judgments  cr  cxercife  their  underfcandings ;  tHt 
they  rather  expecl  to  receive  pleafure  from  others, 
than  endeavor  to  fi.id  it  within  theml'elvcS  f  con- 
dud  theraitlves  by  cafual  advice,  r.^.th?r  than  take 
the  trouble  of  th'nkirg  fcr  tbemfelves  ;  thataniidft 
the  mo  Pi  favorable  opportun'ties  to  obferve  and 
itudy  the  hunaau  characler,  they  n-.-i^her  think  ncr 
fpeak  but  by  the  information  of  others  ;  that  they 
guide  themfclves  by  the  prejudices  of  thrir  educa- 
tion, the  pride  of  their  rank,  and  the  dicflates  of 
fafhion ;  that  they  blindly  adopt  and  defend  the 
reigning  opinion  of  the  moment ;  and  revolve  con- 
tinually round  the  fame  circle  of  defective  notions, 
falfe  ideas,  and  obfcure  expreiTicns.  In  rrflsding 
on  thefe  errors,  tiie  molt  diflipated  man  muf:  ex- 
xlaim  with  one  of  the  moft  virtu  us  and  mc  ft  re- 
ipzdidhle  fag-S  of  Germany,  To  bi  forced  t.^  fre- 
quent this  ccw/^72y,  is  to  a  lb  inking  ai:d  judi- 
cious mind  one  of  the  greatefl  tcrments  c  f  ufe  : 
but  when  a  wife  man  is  obliged  from  indifp^nfahle 
^notives  to  endure  this  torment,  he  will  leurn  by 
experience  to  feel  in  a  ft  ill  hi.^her  degree  the  inelli- 
mabb  value  of  a  ra^i^nal  Sohtude.'* 

Men  of  the  world,  therefore,  if  they  aft  with 
cJandor,  and  in  the  fi^.cerity  of  their  beanp  .^xuruine 
the  merits  cf  ihef^  iccie  ics,  w*ll  foon  cr.iertain  tire 
det'psfl  contempt  fcr  this  nci'^y  acd  tmnuituous 
fcene  of  hfe,  learn  to  TJref--r  r'^e  calm  delights  of 
Solitude,  and  iv^el  an  happy  incii',.auoa  growing  io 


77a?  Irjluence  of  Scliiudc^  Vit- 

the  bofom  to  difpliy  in  more  laudable  purfu'ts  the 
ih-e'^^th  and  e'.^ergy  of  the  ir.ind.  In  thefe  fr.:qiient 
vichiitudes  of  Ufc,  in  ihis^fiicceffion  of  eniburrafi- 
meiits,  in  this  coniir.uai  diffraction  cf  the  mind,  Qrr\ 
cry  in^eileclual  power  evapzirate-s. 

By  this  fcrupuloiis  attention  to  ali  the  duties 
of  p:  liteneis,  running  inceffantly  from  door  to  doer 
to  g-.in  informaiicn  of  ever^^  man's  health,  we  m?,y^ 
indeed,  pay  the  court  cf  flattery  to  both  high  and 
low  ;  but  we  alfo  thereby  m-oft  fhamefuily  facrifice 
cur  iivcs.  The  paflion  for  play  not  only  confunies 
time,  but  e:"iervates  the  fpirits  ;  wLiib  the  obliga* 
tions  of  gallantry  reduce  the  foul  to  the  lacii  ab- 
jfct  fL?.te  of  len'i-ude. 

The  other  entertainments  cf  the  great  and  ?xay 
are  of  as  httle  value  as  tlttir  convvrhii tions.  The 
man  cn  whom  Heaven  has  only  beiicwed  the  talent 
cf  dancing,  will  make  but  a  poor  figure  in  focietr. 
The  courtier,  whofe  converfation  entirely  ccnfi'ls 
cf  obiervations,  that  **  this  is  contrary  to  the  (.ftab- 
lifhed  etiquette— that  is  the  newefb  f^rnijn— thefe 
are  the  m.cil  tleg-jitembrcider.es  cn  iilk,  cloth  and 
velvet — in  fuch  a  month  there  will  be  a  gala"— is 
a  creature  ftdl  mare  pitiful.  A  man  may  witiicut 
d.:ubt  recom.m.end  himlelf  by  fuch  kind  of  informa- 
tion, by  that  attecled  intereR  vvirh  which  he  fpeak^ 
on  a  thcufmd  trifling  concercs  ^of  life,  by  the  ap- 
probati Dn  which  he  gives  to  every  paliicn,'  the  flat- 
tery witli  which  he  fooths  every  prejudice  and  en- 
courages every  folly ;  but  he  thereb^y  narrows  his 
mir.d,  and  deilroys  the  faculty  cfcoi^fidenrg  and 
fomrng  a  juft  eltim-ate  cf  any  important  fubjcCl:. 
Befides,  the  plaaiures  of  high  life  cancct  be  e' Joy- 
ed without  the  concurrence  cf  great  numbers  rhe. 
fame  obje«5!:  a:  the  fame  ^ime  :  but  reading  and  me- 
cita'ion  may  be  e!^joycd  a.t  any  ii!i-e.  and  continued 
without  the  intervention  cf  another  p^rfon.  It  is 
tree,' indeed,  that  if  a  man  of  t^e  world  were  orlt 
to  thinlc  of  this  mode  of  life,  hs  would  be  defpifei 


112 


The  Influence  of  Solitude* 


as  a  mifanthrcps,  and  be  obliged  every  moment  to 
lifteit-  to  the  recommendi.tion  of  ep.teiing  into  the 
round  cf  public  pleafure,  to  eifed  his  cure  :  But, 
on  ths  contrary,  the  fccicties  of  the  world,  while 
they  add  fome  little  refinement  to  the  natural  rude- 
nefs  of  human  manners,  tend  to  increafe  a  mifan- 
thrcpic  temper,  by  furnlfhing  the  mind  with  a  va- 
riety of  reafons  to  juftify  it.  In  (hort,  the  burthen 
of  miPanthropy  is  not  greater  in  the  mind  of  him 
■who  flixcs  from  the  pleafures  cf  the  world,  than  in 
him  who  feeks  them :  the  firff  character  only  feels 
an  hatred  of  vice  and  folly  ;  while,  on  the  contrAry^ 
the  idle  and  diffipa^ed  man  hates  every  perfon  who 
diftinguifhes  himfelf  either  by  the  goodnefs  of  his 
heart  or  the  fuperiorlty  of  his  underftanding  ;  and 
by  his  endeavors  to  deride  all  who  poiTefs  merit,, 
dilc  ~>vers  that  he  feeh  no  hope  of  acquiring  for 
himfelf  either  reputation  or  efleem. 

The  mind  that  ferioufiy  contemplates  thefe 
truths,  and  many  o  hers  which  fhefe  will  fuggeft, 
mufc  feel  the  neceffity  of  retiring  cccafioiially  from 
the  world ;  at  leaf!:  of  coniining  himfelf  to  the  com- 
pany of  a  few  faithful  fiiem's,  whofe  wit  and  tal- 
ents, when  compared  wi^.h  thofe  of  the  generality 
of  men,  will  be  wivat  a  ilop-v/atch  is  when  compa- 
red with  an  hcur-glafs.  By  the  one  you  may  un- 
doubtedly difcover  the  courfe  cf  time  ;  but  the 
other,  from  the  nice  art  and  happy  care  with  which 
it  is  formed,  points  out  every  fecond  as  it  palTeSo 
He,  therefore,  v/ho  feels  the  leafl  inclination  to 
ftudy  either  men  or  book?,  can  derive  plraiure  only 
from  the  company  and  converfaticn  cf  learned  anci 
enlightened  minds  ;  and,  if,  unfortunately  in  his 
courfe  through  life,  he  Pnould  not  meet  with  agree- 
able charaftars  of  this  defcripdon,  the  charms  of 
Solitude  v/ill  r^compenie  his  difappointment. 

A  very  great  charafler,  tr.e  younger  Plioy,. 
felt  no  fatisfaiSlion  from  any  fpecies  of  public  en- 
tertainment, general  feflival,  ornational iclemnity,. 


Jhe  hfuenee  of  SoUinds,  113 

bec^.ufe  he  had  cultivated  a  ta^e  for  thofe  pleafures 
wi:ich  a  contemplative  miud  affords.  He  wrote  to 
one  of  his  friends,  "  1  hav?,  for  fome  days  pad, 
rsad  and  v/ri-ren  in  t'-e  mcft  rgreeable  trai: quill' ly. 
Ycu  will  nik,  HvOVv^  could  this  p -ffibly  happen  in  the 
inidJle  cf  Rome  ?  I  will  fatisfy  ycu  *.  it  was  du- 
ring the  celebration  of  the  games  cf  the  Circur, 
from  tiie  light  cf  which  I  do  not  feel  the  finallefc 
pleafure  :  to  my  mind  !hey  neither  afford  novelty 
nor  variety  ;  and  confift  of  nothing  worth  feeing 
mere  than  once,  it  is,  therefore,  iiiconceivr.ble  to 
me,  how  ib  many  niillions  of  people  can  prefs  with 
fuch  childifh  curiolity  merely  to  fee  hcrfes  gallop, 
and  flaves  feated  on  chariots.  When  I  reflect  on 
the  interefl,  ^.nxiety,  and  avidi'.y  with  which  men 
purfue  fights  fo  vain,  frivolous  and  reiterated,  I 
feel  a  fecret  fatisf  .6i:iGn  in  acknowledging  that  to 
me  they  aff,;rd  no  ainuf anient,  and  t:  at  1  enjoy  a 
fupericr  delight  in  coniecratir  g  to  the  iludy  of  iht^ 
belles  le^tres  that  time  which  rl  ey  fo  miferably.  facri«- 
fice  to  the  enter. ainments  of  the  Circus.'^ 

But  if,  from  fimilar  motives,  a  man  of  the 
world  were  tofheal  from  the  pleafures  of  p;cod  compa-» 
ny^  would  he  not  by  that  means  degrade  his  charac- 
ter? AVculd  he  not  in  the  recefs  of  Sclitiide  f/rget 
the  bon  ion,  and,  of  ccurfe,  1  fe  all  thofe  qualities 
which  externally  confiiture  the  fole  difference  be» 
tween  the  nobleman  and  his  flav^i' 

He  bon  ton^  which  confif:s  entirely  in  afliciiitT 
of  expreffion,  in  reprefenucg  our  ideas  ia  the  m.oil 
agreeable  inannsr,  prevaib  in  evzry  country,  and 
is  poff^lfed  in  general  by  all  mien  of  fcnfe  and  edi- 
itcadon,  v/hatever  their  rank  or  condition  in  lifg 
may  be.  The  nobleman  and  the  clown,  therefore, 
may  alike  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  bon  ion.  The 
folitary  character  may  pernaps  appear  in  fociety 
w'th  manners  rather  out  of  da^:e ;  but  a  certain 
propriety  of  be'iavior  will  accompany  him,  w-iich  a 
man  of  tru;;  refledicn  will  prefer,  however  foreign 
(X  2) 


'J' 1 4  The  Influence  of  ScHfude. 

his  flyleTxiay  be  to  the  fafhion  of  the  world.  He 
may  perhaps  vcl^ture  to  appear  in  company  vzkh 
a  cost,  the  color  of  which  was  in  fafhion  the  pre- 
ceding ye::r  ;  p-^rhaps  in  his  modes  of  thinking  and 
ni-anner  cf  behavior  f  m-:  thing  may  be  difcernible 
©fFenfive  to  ^he  eyes  cf  a  man  of  the  world,  wha 
upon  t.  efe  important  fubjecls  follows  invariably 
the  reigning  opi::ion  cf  the  day  ;  but  by  his  eafy, 
oper.  honei^.  air,  by  t-at  natural  p-:htenefs  which 
good  fenfs  and  virtue  infpire,  a  man,  although  he 
be  rather  cut  of  the  fafhion,  will  never  difplsa(e  a 
rational  and  refmed  obivrver,  even  in  the  brilliant 
circles  of  a  court,  when  he  is  found  to  polTefs  a  de- 
cent d -meaner  and  a  mind  ilorcd  with  ufcful  in- 
f crniarion.  The  niofi:  accompliflied  courtier,  with 
all  his  iludied  manners  and  a?/reeable  addrefs,  fre- 
quently difcovers  that  he  polfeiles  few  ideas,  and 
that  his  mini  has  only  been  employed  on  low  and 
trilling  objects.  Among  men  of  dilTipated  minds, 
who  confider  grcilhels  of  converfaiion  and  audacity 
of  manners  as  the  only  criterion  of  good  fenfe  and 
poMied  behavior,  a  iolitary  man  does  not  always 
meet  with  a  favorable  reception.  The  flyle  and 
fen  timents  which  beftpleafe  fuch  characters  are  im- 
pDiFiMelo  be  learned  in  Sclicude  ;  for  he  who  moft 
contributes  to  the  am.ufementof  men  of  the  world, 
can  felcnom  boalt  any  other  merit  than  that  of  at- 
tempting to  ridicule  every  thing  that  is  true,  noble, 
great  and  good ;  or  any  other  fuccefs  than  proving 
himielf  to  be  a  foclifli  character,  without  judg-nent, 
principle,  or  good  manners. 

In  what  i  have  hitherto  confidered  in  this  chap, 
ter,  no  queition  has  been  raiftd  of  the  internal  and 
Iromediate  advant^.ges  which  SoHtude  confers  upon 
the  mind. 

Tiie  mine!,  without  doubt,  gains  confiderable 
sidvantage  by  having  bc?n  a'^cuflomed  to  Sciituda 
durinf^  the  earlieit  ye  n-s  cf  ii^fancy,  if  inflrucled  iti 
/    a  judicious  ufe  cf  time.  The  circumftance  alfo 


The  Lifucne^  of  Solitude,  ir^ 

that  even  in  fm?.ll  towns  the  mind  may  be  impreiTed' 
with  a  deep  difguil:  of  ?,U  thofe  vices  and  irregulari- 
ties v/hich  are  common  to  fuch  places,  is  by  na 
means  unimportant ;  for  it  is  highly  advantageous, 
that  without  lefleniiig  the  refped  which  is  juftly  due 
to  the  talents  and  virtues  of  men  of  qualiiy,  the 
mind  fhould  be  tanght  to  remark  slfo  their  foibles 
and  defecls,  in  order  to  detach  it  from  its  fondnefs 
for  the  world,  and  bring  it  more  clofely  in  connec- 
tion with  iifelf ;  to  make  it  feel  how  nearly  its  fu- 
ture happinefs  is  interefted  in  exciting  every  faculty 
to  acquire  tb^ofe  original,  great  and  ufeful  ideas 
which  are  lb  feldom  circulated  in  what  is  calied- 
good  company. 

But  the  firfl  and  mod  inconteflible  advantage  ■ 
which  Solitude  confers,  is,  that  it  accufloms  the 
mind  to  think.  I  he  imagination  becomes  more 
lively,  tr.e  memory  more  faithful,  while  the  fenfcS 
remain  undlilracted,  and  no  external  objed  dif- 
guits  the  foul.  Withdrawn  from  the  fatiguing  toils 
of  the  world,  where  a  thcufand  adventitious  ob- 
jeds,  a  thcufand  inccherentldeas,  dance  inceii'antlv 
before  cur  eyes.  Solitude  preients  one  fingle  objeA 
only  to  cur  view,  and  we  fcesl  ourfelves  away  from 
every  thing  but  that  on  which  the  heart  has  londly 
fixed  its  purfuit.  An  author,*  v/hoie  works  I  could 
read  with  pleafure  every  hour  of  my  hfe,  iays^  It 
is  the  pO'VTr  of  attention  which  in  a  great  meafure 
diiiinguiines  the  wile  and  the  great  from  the  vul- 
gar and  trilling  herd  of  men.  I  he  Litter  are  accuf- 
tomed  to  tiiiiik,  or  rather  to  dream,  without  know- 
mg  the  fubjed  of  their  thoughts.  In  their  uncon^ 
neded  rovings,  they  purfue  no  end  ;  they  follow, 
no  track.   Every  thing  floats  L:oie  and  disjointed 

'*  Dr.  Blair,  the  author  of  the  much-a-Imired  Sermon?;,  znA  of 
an  excellent  work  intitled,  "  Lectures  on  Rhetoric  and  Bciles  Let- 
tres,"  printed  in  Lonoon,  for  the  firft  time,  in  the  year  1 78-3  j  and 
jndiipenfablv  ntccHaiy  to  be  lludied  by  every  perfon  who  wilhes  tO 
fpcak  aad  wrUe  with  iic«uracy  antj  elegance. 


1 1 6  The  Infinencc  of  SoikiiJe, 

on  the  furface  of  their  mind,  like  leaves  fcatterec 
-and  blown  about  on  the  face  of  the  waters." 

The  mind  raffiy  acquires  the  habit  of  thinking^ 
when  it  is  withdrawn  from  that  va.riety  of  objed^ 
b)^  which  its  attention  is  diftracled  :  when  it  tur: 
from  I  he  cbferv^.tion  cf  extern?!  objects,  and  fine 
itielf  in  a  fitua'ion  where  ibe  c'urie  of  d  liiy  occurs 
rencea  is  no  longer  lii'-j  cl  to.  conti  -ual  change. 
Idleneis,  how^^rver,  would  foon  deftroy  all  the  a(' 
vantages  which  Sohtude  is  capable  of  atiordii^g  u-s-^ 
f  :.r  i  iilenefs  excites  the  moil  dangerous  fermenta- 
tion cf  tp.e  pafllyns,  and  produces  in  the  mind  of  a, 
folitiry  man  a  crowd  of  extravagant  ideas  and  irre- 
gular defires.    To  lead  the  mind  to  think,  it  is  ne- 
celliiry,  therefjr    to  retire  from  the  multimde,  anf 
toraiie  .ur  L  e  i  ghts  above  the  mean  confideratioi 
of  leni'ial  ob'eTs-    The  nu-:d  then  eafily  reccliecl^ 
all  that  inf..rmaLion  witii  which  it  has  been  enrich! 
ed  by  reading,  ol-^fervation,  experience,  or  dif| 
courfe  ;  every  r<  fie cfi^n  produces  newMdeas,  anc 
brings  trie  purefl  pleafurcs  to  the  foul.  We 
our  t  yes  on  the  f:enc-s  we  have  pafTed,  and  thin] 
on  v/hat  is  yet  to  come,  until  the  memory  of  th< 
pau  and  future  die  away  in  the-  aclual  cnjoymenl^ 
of  the  preicnt  moment :  but  to  preierve  the  powers' 
ofreafjn,  we  mud,  tven  in  Solitude,  (fired  our 
ai tendon  aci-vcly  tow^ards  fbme  nobL^,  iatercilii:g 
e,:d. 

It  mif.ht  perhaps  excite  a  fmile,  were  I  to  af- 
frrr,  ih  it  Solitud-  is  (he  only  frhool  in  which  we 
c.ai  ill!  :ly  ih  j  c'laraclers  of  men  ;  but  it  muii  be  re- 
coiiecl:."d,  t  at,  alihcugh  p:^al:eri:d3  are  only  to  be 
•amafbri  in /cv^^/y,  it  is  in  Solitude  alone  v/e  cm  con- 
vert I  hem  's^o  ul>.  The  world  is  the  great  icene 
of  our  o\  Ibrvati  ms ;  bi^t  to  commier^t  oa  and  ar- 
range them  with  prcprietv,  is  the  work  cf  Sohtude. 
Under-  this  view  of  ths  fiil^jecl:,  therefore,  I  do  not 
percei'^/e  hov/  it  is  poflible  to  c.dl  thof-  charactt  rs 
tnvious  and  mibiathropiCj  whOj  widle  they  ccutiuus 


^'he  Influence^  of  Boritude*  1 1 7 

in  the  world,  endeavor  to  difcover  even  the  hidden 
foiyes,  to  expofe  all  the  latent  fauhs  and  imperfec- 
tions of  mankind.  A  knowledge  of  the  nature  of 
man  is  laudable  and  n"Ccffiry  :  and  \\m  knov/iedge 
can  oi:ly  be  acqu'red  by  obfervation.  I.  cannot, 
tr.erefcre,  think  that  this  (lady  is  either  fo  danger- 
ous or  ilkifory  as  is  in  ^;eueral  fuppcfed ;  tr.at  \t 
■  tends  to  degrade  the  fpecies,  to  fmk  the  human 
character  by  opprobrium,  to  beget  fooner  or  later 
forrow  and  repentance,  to  deprive  life  of  a  'w'ariety 
of  pure  and  nobl-^  pleafures,  and  in  the  end  to  de- 
liroy  all  the  faculties  of  the  foul,  I  only  perceive 
in  it  a  very  laudable  fpirit  of  ufeful  Inquiry  and  ia- 
ftru'ilive  obfer\^ation. 

Do  I  feel  either  envy  or  hatred  againil  man- 
kind when  I  fLudy  the  na;ure,  -and  explore  the  fe- 
crct  caufes,  of  thof^  weakneffes  and  difcrders  v/hich 
are  incidental  to  the  human  frame  ;  when  I  occi- 
^fioaaliy  examine  the  fubje^i:  with  clofer  infpeclion, 
'and  point  out  for  the  general  benefit  of  mankind, 
as  well  as  for  my  own  fatisfaccion,  ail  the  frail  and 
imperfecl:  parts  in  the  anatomy  of  the  body,  and 
rejoice  v/lien  I  dirccver  ph-cieiiomena  before  un- 
known to  ot'r.ers  as  v/ell  as  to  myfelf  ?  I  do  not, 
upon  thefe  occafions,  confine  my  kuovvdedge  to  ge- 
neral obfervations,  thiit  fuch  and  inch  appearances 
were  produced  by  fuch  and  fuch  diforders ;  but, 
uninflaenced  by  any  fmirter  conilderatlons,  I  dif- 
elcfe,  wr.en  the  necelTity  of  the  caie  calls  for  infor- 
mation, all  the  knowledge  I  pofTefs  on  the  fubjecl, 
and  explain  every  fymptom  of  the  difcrdcr,  with 
all  its  changes  and  compl'cattons. 

But  a  line  of  demarcation  is  drawn  betv/eeii 
the  obfervations  which  we  are  permitted  to  make 
upon  the  anatomy  of  the  human  body,  and  thofe 
which  we  aiFume  refpe<ftlng  the  philof:phy  of  the 
mind,  'i  he  phyfician,  it  is  f?id,  Rudies  the  difor- 
ders of  the  body,  to  apply,  if  polTible,  a  remedy, 
as  occafion  may  rec^uire  {  but  it  is  contended,  that 


i'1'8  TJ:c  Influence'  of  Mitude^ 

the  mcniliii  h?.s  a  difeent  end  in  view.  Hov/  doe^ 
tris  appear  ?  A  (enlibh  ana  feeling  mind  raufl  view 
the  moral  defcCLS  of  h^s  fellov;'-crea tares  with  the 
fkme  regr^.t  that  i:e  cbierv-es  their  phyfical  infinni^ 
ties.  Why  do  morruij i?  fhun  niank'nd  ?  Why  da 
they  conliaiitly  retire  fixm  the  ccrrup:i:ns  of  tiiq 
world  lq  the  puri;y  cf  Solitude,  if  it  be  not  to  avoid 
the  contagion  of  vice  ?  But  there  are  a  muUiplicitf 
of  mor.^d  foibles  and  det<'6b  which  aje  not  perceiv-' 
ed  to  re  foibles  ct  de  feclc  id  ihofe  places  where  they 
are  every  honr  indalged.  There  is,  withcut  con- 
tradiction, a  j;;r^at  pleyiure  in  difcoYering  the  im^ 
perfe<ft.ons  oi  human  na'.ure  ;  and  where  that  dif^^ 
ccvery  inpy  prc^ve  beneficial  to  mankind  without* 
d::ing  an  irjury  to  iny  iiidividual,  to  publifli  theiH; 
to  the  world,  to  poiat  cut  their  properties,  to  place 
them  by  a  luminous  defc  ription  before  the  eyes  of 
men,  is,,  in  my  apprehension,  a  pleafure  fo  far  from  " 
beirg  raiichievous,  that  I  rather  think,  and  I  tru^: 
I  lh3 11  coutiaae  to  think  fo  even  in  the  hour  of 
death,  it  is  the  only  true  mean  of  dilccvc-riiig  the 
iiiachin?.tiGr^s  cf  the  devil,  and  dellroyins  the  efled. 
•cf  iiis  work-:. 

Solitude,  theref  rre,  is  the  Ichocl  in  which  we 
pnuii  fcudy  the  nieral  iiature  cf  Riin :  in  retireirent 
the  principle  cf  obi-.rvatian  is  awakened  ;  the  ob- 
jects to  wnich  the  altenticn  will  be  inoft  adva?na^ . 
gecuily  directed,  are  poiated  out  by  mature  r.flec-. 
tion,  and  all  our  remarks  guided  by  reafon  to  their 
proper  ends ;  while  on  the  contrary,  courtiers  and 
men  of  the  wcrld  take  up  the^.r  fentituents  from 
the  caprices  of  others,  and  give  their  opiiiions  v/ith- 
oiitdigdaug  the  fubjeftoB  v/hich  they  are  fcnned. 

Bonner,  in  a  very  ailecting  paffage  cf  the  Pre- 
face to  his  work  o-a  the  Nature  of  the  Soul,  de- 
Icribes  the  advantages  which,  UDCer  the  bis  of  his 
light,  he  derived  from  Solitude.  "  Solitude  naJu- 
raliy  leads  the  miiid  to  meditation :  that  in  v/hich  I 
have  in  ijnie  nieamre  hitherto  lived,  joined  to  the 


Thi  hif.ucnis  of  Scfitiidc.  1 1  <>• 

-  unfortanate  circumRances  which  have  for  f?me 
■  T*ar.^  p.fH'ft^d  me,  and  from  which  I  arji  not  yet 

reir:ifed,  indacsd  ine  to  feek  hi  the  cxercife  of  my 
mind  thofe  refcnjrces  which  my  d:fLr?.<rted  (late  ren- 
dered fo  ncceile.ry.  My  mind  now  affords  me  an 
h^'ppy  retreat,  'v^'here  I  tall e  all  the  pleafares  which 
have  charmed  my  afliifllon."    At  thi3  pericd  the 

,  virtuous  Bonnet  Ava3  almoil  Mind, 

An  excellent  man  of  another  dcfcription,  who 
devoted  his  time  to  tlie  inro-u/ilion  of  yout{\  Ffef- 
fel,  at  Cdmcir^  fupp.-^rted  hi  r.felf  uncer  the  aiUxiion 
of  a  total  bhndnefs  in  a  rn  inner  equally  noble  and 
aftecling,  by  a  life  lefs  folitary  indeed,  but  hy  the 
opp^rtuni'ies  of  freqntnt  leifure,  which  h*  dv?v  :ted 
to  the  findy  cf  p.iii:  ibphy,  the  recrcatic  n  of  poet- 
ry, and  the  exercifa  of  humanity. 

In  Japan  there  was  formerly  an  academy  cf 

I  tlhid  p^rbns,  w^ho  perhaps  were  much  more  cap;i- 

'  ble  of  difcenimsnt  t  "an  the  members  cf  fome  other 
aciiemies.  ThMe  nghtl  rfs  academicians  confecra- 
ted  their  hours  to  the  hiftory  of  their  country,  to 

I '  poetry,  and  to  m.nlc ;  and  the  moftcelebraied  traits 
ia  the  annals  of  Japan  were  chofen  as  the  (uhjccls- 
of  their  mufe,  which  th:y  afterwards  adapted  to 

-  inufic.  In  reiieCting  up^-n  th^  iiTeguku-  live?  ani 
'  ufeiefs  employments  v/hich  a  great  nuinber  of  fvii- 

tavy  penons  lead,  we  contsniphte  ti:e  conduct  of 
•b.:ie  blind  Japan ?fe  with  the  highell  pleafure.  I'ha 
eys  Opened  to  compenfate  their  unhappy  fate 
b-eing  deprived  cf  the  enjoyment  of  their  corpi- 
il  organ.    Light,  hfe  ar.d  joy  illued  from  the 
i::ad-:s  cf  furrounding  darknefs,  and  blefT^d  them 
with  tranqmi  rcflvCLion  and  falutarr^  employments. 

Let  us  then  devote  our  lives  to  S^lituie  and 
freedom;  let  us  frequsn  Ir  refign  ourfflves  to  the 
fame  happy  tranquH  ty  v.  h'ch  prevails  in  the  Erg- 
iiih  garden  of  my  i  nmort:  I  friend,  M.  Hinuber,  at 
Maricriwerder^  where  -^v-ry  o^j^cl  f  ^licirs  the  mind 
t  J  the  cnjoyiEent  of  piouc,  p^acofui  fentiments,  and. 


fid 


The  Injluence  of  ^dliiuie* 


infpires  it  ^nth  the  mo',  elevated  conceptions :  or^' 
if  difp-jfed  profoundly  to  examine  the  moft  awfulj 
beauties  of  nature,  and  thereby  prevent  the  fculi 
from  f'Dldng  through  t.  e  void  whxh  f.Kiety  has  oc- 
cafioned,  let  us  roann  beiie^th  the  antique  pines  of 
the  towering  and  n-iajefdc  Hapfburg.* 

Solitude  induces  the  mind  to  think ;  and 
thouglit  is  the  firll  fpring  of  human  adions :  for  it 
is  truly  obferved,  that  the  adlions  of  men  are  noth- 
ing more  than  their  thoughts  brouglit  intb  fubilance 
and  being.  Tha  mind,  therefore,  has  only  to  ex- 
amine v/ith  honeft  iiiipardality  the  ideas  which  it 
feels  the  greatefi:  inclination  to  follow,  in  order  to^ 
dive  into  and  unravel  the  whole  mynery  of  the  hu-- 
man  charaQer  ;  and  he  v/ho  has  not  before  been 


an  inquiry,  often  dilcover  truths  the  moii  impor- 
tant to  his  happlnefs,  but  which  the  difguifes  of  the 
world  had  concealed  from  his  view. 

To  a  man  difpofed  to  adcivity,  the  only  quali- 
ties for  v/hich  he  can  have  any  occafion  in  Solitude 
are  liberty  and  leifure.  The  inftant  he  finds  him- 
felf  alone,  ail  the  faculties  of  his  foul  are  fet  in  mo- 
tion. Give  him  liberty  and  leiliire,  and  he  will 
foar  incomparably  higher  than  if  he  had  continued 
to  drag  on  a  fiaviili  and  oppreffed  life  amorg  the 
fons  of  men.  Authors  who  never  think  for  them- 
felves,  w^ho  only  endeavor  to  recollecl  the  thoughts 
of  others,  and  aim  not  at  origir.ality,  here  compik 
their  works  with  eafy  labor,  and  are  happy.  But 
what  fupcrior  pleaiiire  dees  the  mind  of  an  author 
fe:-l  in  the  r^dvantages  of  ScUtude,  where  they  con- 
tribute to  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  genius  froxTi  the 
tree  of  virtue,  notwithfianding  fuch  produ61:ions 
may  perh?p?  irritate  fools,  and  confound  the  wick- 
ed! Tile  Ihades  of  Solitude,  and  an  unintrrrupted 


*  An  elcvateci  mountaij),  from  the  fummit  of  v/hich  may  be 
feen  the  ruins  of  aa  aaciect  caSie^  ffotg  y/hence  iffued  Lbe.celebia- 
ted  Hgufe  of  Auilria. 


7he  Injlitence  of  Solitude,  I  zit 

trr.nqiiillity,  moder?.te  the  exuberance  of  a  lively 
mind,  brirg  its  diverging  rays  of  thought  to  aCngle 
point,  and  give  it,  v/herever  it^  is  inchned  to  ftrike, 
a  power  v/hich  ROtlnng  can  refill.  An  vi^hcle  legioa 
cf  adverfarics  cannot  infpire  the  bofora  of  fuch  a 
character  \vi;h  the  fmallefl  fear;  he  is  confcious  of 
!  his  fuperior  powers,  and  his  fole  defire  is,  that,  foon-^ 
;  er  or  later,  each  cf  them  fhould  receive  the  juftice 
i  that  is  due.    He  muHiindoubtedly  feel  the  keereft 
:  regret  and  mortification  in  obfrrving  the  difpenfa- 
tions  cf  the  world ;  v/here  vice  fo  frequently  is  rai- 
fed  to  grandeur,  hypocrify  fo  generally  honored  by 
the  fuffirages  of  a  'mifguicled  populace,  and  where 
the  dictates  of  powerful  prejudice  are  cbe-/ed  in 
preference  to  the  voice  of  truth.    CafLing,  howev- 
I  er,  his  eyes  upon  this  fcene,  he  will  fometimes  fay, 
1    This  is  as  it  ought  to  be     but,  "  this  is  not  ta 
be  en  lured and  by  an  happy  flroke  cf  fatire 
from  his  pen,  the  bloom  cf  vice  fhali  wither,  the- 
I  arts  of  liypocrify  be  overthrown,  and  prejudice  ex- 
tinguifhed. 

To  the  eye  of  the  bold  fatiriH:,  to  the  mind  of 
ihe  profound  philofopher,  and  the  feelings  cf  the 
mnn  cf  genius,  the  charms  of  truth  difclofe  them- 
fd^'es  with  fuperior  luitre  in  the  bowers  of  Solitude. 
A  great  and  gord  man.  Dr.  Biair  of  Edinburgh, 
(ays,  "  The  great  and  the  worthy,  the  pious  and 
the  virtuous,  have  ever  been  addicted  to  fericus  re- 
tirement.   It  is  the  characteriflic  of  little  and  frivo- 
Icus  minds,  to  be  wholly  occupied  with  the  vulgar 
obje(fl3  cf  life.    Thefe  fill  up  their  defires,  and  lup- 
j  ply  all  the  entertainment  which  their  coarfe  apprc"- 
I  h^nfions  can  rehfh.    But  a  more  refined  and  elar- 
:  ged  mind  leaves  the  world  behind  ir,  feels  a  call  for 
j  higher  pleafiires,  and  feeks  them  in  retreat.  The 
;  man  of  public  fpirit  has  reccurfe  to  it,  in  order  to 
i  form  plans  for  general  good  ;  the  man  of  genius,  in 
order  to  dwell  on  his  favorite  thenies ;  ths  phibfo- 


I 


(XI) 


122  The  Lifnicncs  of  SGJitudc, 

pher^  to  purfue  his  difcoveries ;  the  faint,  to  im^ 
prove  himfelf  ia  grace." 

Numa,  the  legifiator  of  Ror  e,  while,  he  w?] 
only  a  private  Sabine,  retired,  on  the  death  of  Ta 
tia,  his  beloved  wife,  into  the  foreft  of  Jricia^  wher( 
he  paffed  his  time  in  wandering  about  slone  in  th^ 
iacred  groves  and  lawns,  in  the  mofc  retired  anc 
folitary  places.  Hence  a  report  arofe,  that  it  Vvai 
not  from  any  inward  fcrrov/  or  melancholy  difpcti' 
tion,  that  he  ?.voided  human  converfatioc,  but  fron: 
his  being  admitted,  in  th;fe  retreats,  to  a  focie^^ 
more  venerable  and  excellent :  the  goddefs  Egeria, 
It  was  faid,  had  become  enamored  of  his  charms] 
h^d  married  him,  and,  by  enlightening  his  mind, 
?Tid  fcoring  it  with  faperior  wifdcm,  had  led  him  \c 
divine  felicity.  The  druids,  alio,  who  conflanti^^l 
inhabited  caverns,  rocks,  and  the  moi^b  Iclitary 
woods,  were  faid  to  have  inftrucled  the  nobility  o; 
their  nation  in  wifdom  and  eloquence,  in  the  va- 
rious phenomena  of  nature,  the  courle  of  the  liarSj 
the  myfteries  of  religion,  and  the  elfences  of  etend- 
•ty.  The  high  idea  entertained  of  the  wifdom  of  thd 
druids,  although,  hke  the  liory  of  Numa,  it  is  only 
an  agreeable  fiftion,  flill  fhews  with  what  erithufiafriij 
every  age  and  nation  have  fpoken  of  thofe  venera- 
ble chara<5lers  who,  in  the  filer ce  of  woods  and  the 
tranquillity  of  Solitude,  have  devoted  their  time  to 
the  ftudy  of  wifdcm. 

It^is  in  SoUtude  alone  that  genius  is  excited  by 
its  own  internal  powers,  jjnfupported  by  the  great/ 
without  the  expeftation  of  encouragement,  without 
•even  a  profpe(5l  of  the  molt  trifling  recompence. 
Corregio,  at  a  time  v/hen  Flanders,  torn  by  civil 
difcord,  was  filled  with  painters  as  indigent  in  wealth 
as  ihey  were  rich  in  fam.e,  hadl^een  fo  poorly  re- 
warded during  his  hfe,  ihat  a  payment  of  Lx  pif- 
toles  of  German  coin,  which  he  was  obliged  to 
travel  to  Parma  to  receive,  created  in  his  mind  fuch 
.aflfi^^lravagauce  of  joy  as  to  prove  the  cccalicn  cf 


The  Injluence  of  Mhide.  j 

his  death.*  The  fecret  approbation  which  judg- 
ment will  ever  pay  to  the  works  of  tbefe  divide  ar- 
tills,  is  the  only  recompence  they  expecl  for  their 
merit  :  they  paint  in  hope  of  being  rewarded  by 
immortal  fair.e. 

The  practice  of  profound  meditation  in  fol'.ta- 
ry  places  frequently  raifas  the  mind  above  its  na- 
tural tone,  warms  the  imagination,  and  gives  birth 
to  fen'iments  of  the  highcll  fublimity.  The  foul 
feels  the  moil  pure,  unbroken,  p  ermanent  and  ge- 
nial phafures  cf  which  it  is  capable.  In  S  T'litude-, 
to  live  and  to  think  are  fynonymous ;  on  every 
emo'.ion  the  m'nd  darts  into  infinity ;  and,  rapt  in 
its  enthiifrafin,  is  confirmed  by  tins  f-eedom  of  en- 
joyment in  the  habi-ude  cf  thiiikir^g  on  fublime  fub- 
jeCls,  anil  of  adopting  the  moft  heroic  purfuits.  In 
a  deep  Solitude,  at  the  fojt  of  an  high  mountain, 
near  Pyrmounf ,  one  of  the  mofi:  remarkable  achieve- 
ments of  tha  prefeat  age  was  firft  conceived.  The 
King  of  PrulTia  having  vifited  the  Spa  at  Pyrmount, 
to  drink  the  waters,  v/ithdrew  from  the  company 
v/ho  frequented  the  place,  and  vvandered  alone  up- 
on this  beautiful  mountain,  which  was  then  uncul- 
tivated, and  which  to  this  day  is  called  the  Royal 
McuiDtaiQ.t  It  w^as  on  thi^s  defart,  fmce  become  the 
feat  cf  ccquetry  and  diilipaticn,  that  the  young 
monarch,  as  it  is  confidently  reported,  formed  his 
prcj  61  of  the  firlr  v/ar  againfl  Siiefia. 

Tiie  ineiliinable  value  of  time,  of  which  the 
indolent,  having  no  concept.ion,  can  form  no  eiii- 
mate,  is  much  better  learned  in  the  regul  irity  cf 
SdiruJe,  than  in  the  hght  and  airy  rounds  of  life. 
He  v/r.o  employs  himfeif  v;ith  ardor,  and  is  unwiU 


*"  The  payment  was  mide  to  hira  in  quadrini^  z  fpecies  of  copper 
coin.  The  joy  which  the  mind  of  Corregio  felt  in  being  the  bearer 
of  lb  large  a  qu.^nticy  of  mr-nsy  to  his  wife,  prevented  him  fiom  think- 
ing either  of  che  iengtii  of  his  journey  or  the  excefiive  heat  of  tlic  day.' 
tJe  waikf  A  twelve  miles  ;  and  his  hafttf  U  reach  hii>  hojiii  iHOUgliL  oa 
the  ule'jrify  of  which  he  died. 


j-24  The  Influence  of  Solitude, 

ling  to  live  entirely  in  vain,  contemplates  with  trem- 
bliug  appreheniion  the  rapid  movement  of  a  ftcp- 
v/aich ;  the  true  image  of  humiin  life,  the  moll  lirL 
king  emblem  of  the  rapid  courfe  of  time. 

The  time  which  we  employ  in  focial  intei^ 
courfe,  when  it  improves  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
raifes  the  feelings  of  the  heart  to  a  certain  degra 
of  elevation,  extends  the  fphere  of  knowledge  am 
banifhes  our  care,  is  far  from  being  mis-fpent.  Ba 
if  an  intercourfe,  even  thus  happily  formed,  beconn 
our  fole  delight,  and  change  into  the  pallion  of  love ; 
if  it  transform  hours  into  minutes,  and  exclude* 
from  the  mind  every  idea  except  thofe  v/liich  t):e 
objecSl  of  2&Qi\on  infpires,  even  love  itfelf,  alas  I 
will  abforb  our  time,  and  years  will  pafs  unperceiv- 
•ed  away. 

Time  is  never  too  long ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
appears  too  fhort  to  him  who,  to  the  extent  6f  his 
capacity,  employs  it  ufefully,  in  the  difcharge  of 
the  refpeftlve  duties  which  his  particular  fituation 
calls  upon  him  to  perform.  To  fuch  a  difpcfition 
time,  i  a -lead  of  being  burthenfome,  flies  too  haliily 
jiv/ay.  1  am  acquainted  with  a  young  prirxe  who, 
by  the  affiftance  of  fix  domefdcs,  does  not  employe 
Hiore  than  two  minutes  in  drefiing.  Of  his  carri- 
age,^ it  would  be  incorre(5^  to  fay  that  he  goes  in  it, 
for  it  flies.  At  his  hofpitable  table,  every  courfe  is 
finifhed  in  a  mom.ent  ;  and  I  am  informed,  that 
this  is  the  ufual  fafhion  of  princes  v/ho  feem  difpo- 
fed  to  make  every  thing  pals  with  rapidity,  i 
have,  however,  leen  the  royal  youth  to  whom  I  al- 
lude, exercife  the  mod  brilliant  tslents,  fupport  the 
higheft  fcyle  of  chara-fter,  aUend  in  his  own  perfoii 
to  every  application,  audi  know  that  he  hc.s  afford- 
ed fatisfaflion  and  delight  in  every  interviev/.  I; 
know  that  the  aiFairs  of  his  domeiblc  eftibiifhment 
engp.ge  his  moft  fcrupulous  attention  fix  hours  ev-*. 
ery  Ci2.\r ;  and  th_at  in  every  day  of  the  year  he  em- 
|)ioy$5  wiihcut  CKceptioB^  i^vgu  nours  in  reading. the 


Tlje  Jnftuence  of  Solitude, 

b^n  Edglifh,  Ic?.lia33,  French  and  German  authors. 
This  prince  knows  the  value  of  time. 

The  time  which  the  man  of  the  world  throws 
away  is  treafured  up  by  the  m-m  of  Solitude,  and 
indeed  bv  every  one  who  wifhes  to  m  ike  his  ex- 
i:1pnce  lifeful  to  himfelf  or  beneficial  to  mankied  ; 
and  certainly  there  is  not  in  this  w.^rld  any  Ipecies" 
of  enjoyment  more  permanent.  Men  have  many 
duties  to  perform  ;  and,  therefore,  he  who  wiflies 
to  dilcharge  them  honorably,  will  vigilantlv  feiza 
the  earlieli  cpportunity,  if  he  does  not  wiih  thrcC 
any  part  of  h.is  time,  like  an  ufelefs  page,  Ihould  be 
torn  from  the  book  of  hfe.  We  fli^p  the  courfe  of 
time  by  employment ;  we  prolong  the  duration  of 
lite  by  thought,  by  wifecounfel,  andufeful  adions. 
Esiftence,  to  him  who  v/ifhes  not  to  live  in  vain,  is 
to  think^  and  to  aB,  Our  ideas  never  flow  more 
rapidly,  more  copioufly,  or  with  more  gaiety,  than 
in  thofe  moments  which  we  fave  from  an  unplea- 
iant  an  1  falhionabie  vl^t,  - 

We  (hall  always  employ  time  with  more  rigid 
economy,  when  we  reiie6l  on  the  maiiy  hours 
which  cfcape  contrary  to  cur  inclination.  A  cele* 
brated  Englifh  author  fays,  "  When  we  hove  de- 
ducted all  thot  is  abforbed  in  ileep,  all  that  is  inev- 
itably appropriated  to  the  demands  ofaoture,  or 
irre'ifdbly  engi^ffed  by  the  tyranny  of  cuflom. ;  all 
that  paffes  in  r^jguhting  tho  fuptriicial  decQraiionj^ 
of  life,  or  is  given  up  in  th-^  reciprocations  of  civili- 
ty to  the  difpofal  of  others  ;  aii  that  is  torn  from 
us  by  the  violence  of  difeafe,  or  ftolen  impercepti- 
bly away  by  lafFitude  and  hnguor;  we  (hall  fiad 
that  part  of  cur  ckiration  very  fmali  of  which  we 
can  truly  call  curfelves  maft^rs,  or  which  we  can 
fpend  wholly  at  cur  own  choice.  Many  of  our  hours 
are  IMl  in  a  rot^rion  of  petty  cares,  in  a  conftant  re- 
curreoce  of  the  fame  employments ;  many  of  cur 
provifions  for  eafe  or  bappinefs  ar^  always  ex- 
hauHed  by  the  prclent  dav  \  ar*d  a  great  part  cf 
(XI  2) 


fSt?  The  Influence  of  Solitude, ■■ 

our  exiilence  ferves  no  other  parpofe  than  that  of^ 
enabUag  us  to  enjoy  the  relL'' 

Time  is  never  more  inis-fpent  than  while  we, 
vent  complaints  againfl:  the  want  of  it.  All  cur- 
•accions  are  then  tinfturad  by  peevifhnefs.  The 
yoke  of  life  mofl  certainly  feels  lefs  oppreffive  when? 
v/e  carry  it  with  g;ood-humor.  But  when  the  im- 
perious voice  of  Falkion  commands,  we  muft,  with- 
out a  murmur,  boldly  refill  her  bondage,  and  learn 
to  reduce  the  cumber  of  ceremonious  viiits  which 
employ  the  week.— The  accomplifnment  of  this 
victory,  a  door  well  bolted  againft  thofe  frequent 
viiitors  whofe  talk  conveys  no  meaning  to  our 
iiiinds,  our  mornings  pafled  in  rational  employ- 
ments, and  the  evening  kept  facred  to  the  feverefc 
fcruviny  into  our  daily  conduct,  will  at  lean:  double 
the  time  wc  have  to  live.  Melan£lhcn,  when  any 
vifitor  was  announced,  noted  down  not  only  the 
iiour,  but  the  very  minute  of  his  arrival  and  de- 
parture, in  order  that  the  day  might  not  Hip  ua- 
heedediy  away. 

Tne  forrov*?ful  lamentations  on  the  fubjecl  of. 
time  mis-fpent  and  bulhefs  neglected,  no  longer  re- 
cur to  torture  the  mind,  when  under  the  freedom 
cf  a  retired  and  rural  life,  we  have  once  learnt  to 
afe  the  palBng  hours  with  econom^y.  We  have 
then  no  more  fatiguing  vifits  to  make  ;  w*2  are  na 
longer  forced,  in  fpite  of  our  averlion,  to  accept  of 
invitations ;  we  are  no  longer  m.ortined  by  the  afflu- 
ence of  rival  ftrangers ;  we  are  releaied  from  thofe 
innumerable  duties  v/hich  the  manners  of  the  world 
exact,  and  which  altogether  are  not  equal  to  a  fm- 
gie  virtue ;  imponunate  viiitors  cannot  then  call 
and  ileal  away  thofe  hours  which  we  hepe  to  em- 
ploy more  ufefuUy. 

'  But  it  has  alio  been  obferved  with  great  truth, 
that  very  fev/  of  the  hours  v/e  pafs  in  Solitude  are 
diflinguifhed  by  any  ufeful  or  permanent  effect; 
liiat  saany  of  them  pafs  lightly  av/ay  in  dre?45i3  and 


T^e  Infuencs     Mitudg.  lay 

cMmerae,  or  are  employed  in  difcontented,  unqui- 
et retie£lions,  io  (he  indulgence  of  danejerous  paf-- 
ii.)ns,  or  of  irregular  and  crimiuiil  dehres. 

To  retire  into  Solitude  is  not  always  a  proof 
that  the  mind  is  devoted  to  farious  thought,  or  that 
it  has  reiinquiflied  the  amuiement  of  low  and  tri- 
fiing  purfuirs — Scliiude,  indeed,  may  prove  more 
dangerous  than  all  the  diflipations  of  the  world. 
How  frequenily,  in  a  moment  of  the  happieU  lei- 
fure,  djes  indilpoiitioa  render  the  mind  incapable 
of  ftudy,  or  cf  employing  its  powers  to  anv  ufeful 
end  !  The  mod  forrowfui  condition  cf  SoUtude  is 
that  of  the  hypochondriac,  vvhofe  mind  is  only  oc« 
cupied  by  reSe(Sting  on  his  pains.  The  moft  dilii- 
pated  man  does  not  more  mis-fpend  his  time  in  pur- 
fuiDg  the  fleeting  pieafures  of  the  world,  than  a 
melancholy,,  pining  mind,  even  when  at  the  great— 
efi  diftance,  and  under  the  niofl:  abfolnts  leparatioa 
from  tlie  reit  of  m-ankind.  Peevillinefs  and  ill-hu- 
mor occalion  as  great  Icis  of  tim.e  as  m^lancholy^ 
and  are  certainly  the  greatePr  obftades  to  the  attain- 
ment of  mental  felicity.  Melancholy  is  an  enem-y 
whofe  hoftilities  alarm  cur  fears,  and  we  therefore 
.endeavor  to  reiiii  its  attack ;  but  peeviihnefs  and 
ill-humor  take  us  by  furpriz.^,  and  we  become  the 
viclims  of  their  power  even  before  we  think  our- 
felves  in  danger. 

Let  us,  ho\^"ever,  only  refle(ft,  that  by  peevifh- 
nefs  and  ilUhumor  we  not  only  lofe  a  lingle  day,but 
weeks  and  m  rntiis  together,  and  we  fnali  endeavor 
to  eicape  from,  their  iniiuince,  or,  ?.t  leaft,  to  prevent 
their  accas.  Ojje  unpleafant  thought,  if  w^e  uf-ltlly 
-fiiifer  it  to  difquiet  and  torment  our  minds,  will  de- 
prive us,  for  a  length  of  time,  of  the  capacity  to  per- 
form any  thing  beyond  the  circle  of  our  daily  occu- 
pations. We  ihould,  therefore,  moft  anxioufly  en- 
deavor to  prevent  any  of  the  cuiward  accidents  of 
life  from  gaining  too  great  an  influence  over  tr:e  ac- 
tivity of  o.ur  aunds,.  While  the- atientii^u  is  els'* 


1 28  'Thg  Infiuence  of  ScUhi^e.  ■ 

ployed,  the  remembrance  of  fbrfow  dies  away. 
I  bus 5  while  the  mind  is  eng-  g^d  in  literary  compo- 
fition,  if  the  ideas  flow  with  activity  and'  fiiccefsj 
peevilhnefs  ar.d  ii'Uhnmor  difappear  in  a  momein  ; 
and  we  frequently  obferve  the  pen  taken  up  with 
ib.p  frown  of  difcontent,  and  quitted  with  the  fmiie 
of  happineis  and  the  face  of  joy. 

Life  would  aflord  abundant  leifure  amid  the 
greatefh  muldplicity  ofaflairs,  did  we  not  only  fuf- 
fer  lime  to  pafs  ufdefly  away,  but  even  wafte"  it  of 
our  own  accord.  He  who  in  his  e  ^rlieil:  youth  h3S 
learned  the  art  of  dr.vQting  every  hour  to  the  at- 
tainment of  fome  afeful  end,  has  already  made  con- 
fiderable  advance^;,  and  is  qualified  to  m.anage  very 
extenfive  concerns.  But,  whether  it  proceeds  from 
ill-humor  or  want  of  aftivity,  we  are  always  incli- 
ned, before  we  uadertaks  the  talk  we  iatend  to  per- 
form,to  indulge  our  eare,to  make  conditionSjto  per- 
iiiade  ourfelves  that  it  is  not  yet  proper  time  to  com- 
mence the  vvork.  Indolence  mufs:  ever  be  carefTed 
before  it  czw  be  in<iua"d  to  a£l:.  Let  our  firfl  care, 
therefore,  be  to  fix  our  minds  invariably  upon  fome 
objecl  ;  and  to  purfue  it  in  fuch  a  manner  as  to 
pi  ice  p.ttainment  beyond  the  reach  of  accident. 
Firm.nels  and  deciiion,  as  well  as  well  as  good  na- 
ture and  flexibility,  mufi:  be  joined  to  form  t^e  cha- 
racter of  a  man  of  bur^nefs.  ^  Surely  no  man  ever 
k-iew  better  how  to  employ  life  than  that  monarch 
of  whom  it  was  faid,  "  He  is  like  marble,  equally 
firm  and  polilhcd.'^ 

The  purfiiit  of  foire  "pardcular  obje^l:  is  the 
befc  preventive  egiinft  the  lofs  of  time,  and  a  fort 
of  counter- poifon  to  the  bnguors  of  life.  Every 
man,  from  the  monarch  on  the  throne  to  the  labor- 
er in  the  cintage,  Ihouid  have  a  daily  taslr ;  and 
that  which  it  is  his  daily  duty  to  perform,  fhould 
be  done  without  procraftiiiation  or  delay.  Every 
thouglit  and  every  adion  of  man,  therefore,  ougul 
to  ba'direclad  towards  the  l^g^ad  v^^iiere  it  is  wnu 


Tk  Infiucitcs  of  Solitudg*  129^ 

t'n,  ^*  It  is  to  do  this  that  you  are  placrd  here/^ 
Tiie  great  mocarch  who  is  an  exarxiple  to  tbe  age 
in  which  he  lives,  and  whcfe  con  :ii«5t  v^ill  become  a 
model  to  future  kings,  rifes  every  morning  in  iu!n- 
mer  at  four  o'clock,  and  in  winter  at  five.  The  pe- 
titions of  his  fubjccls,  the  diipitches  from  foreign 
powers,  the  public  documents  of  the  ft  ite,  w'r.ich 
were  prefer  ted  the  preceding  evening,  or  have 
arrived  during  the  night,  are  placed  before  him^  on 
a  tabk.  He  cpens  aud  perafes  the  contents  of  ev- 
ery paper  ;  and  then  diftribu'es  them  into  three 
heaps.  One,  wnich  requires  difpatch,  he  anfwers 
immediately  ;  the  other  he  prepares,  by  remarks 
written  in  the  margin  with  ids  own  hand,  for  the 
miniiters  and  ether  officers  of  the  crown  ;  the  third, 
which  contains  neither  amufement  nor  bufmefs,  he 
throws  into  the  fire.  I'he  iecretaries  of  ftate,  who 
attend  iareadinefs,  afterwards  cater  to  receive  ki^' 
Majefty's  Commands  ;  and  the  bufmefs  cf  the  day 
is  delivered  by  the  monarch  into  the  hands  of  his 
fervants,  to  be  performed  withcut  delay.  He  then 
mounts  his  horfe  to  review  his  troops,  and  receives 
in  the  field  thofe  foreigners  who  are  defircus  of 
being  introduced  to  him.  This  fcene  is  fucceeded 
by  the  hofpitality  of  his  table,  to  which  he  fits  down 
with  gaiety  and  prefence  of  mind,  and  enlivens  the 
converfation  with  fentlmeDts  and  apothegms  which 
ilrike  the  mdod  by  their  truth  and  v.ifdom.  'Ihe 
fecrctaries  re-enter  when  the  repafl  is  fmlfned, 
bringing  with  them,  properly  and  neatly  prepared 
for  tne  royal  approbaii on, thc'fc documents  of  which 
they  had  received  the  rough  draughts  in  the  morn- 
ing. Between  the  hours  of  four  and  five  in  the 
afternoon,  the  daily  bufinefs  of  the  n::tion  being 
concluded,  the  monarch  thisks  himfelf  at  hberty  to 
repofr  j  and  this  indulgence  conGfts  m  reading  to 
himfelf,  cr  having  read  to  him,^he  beft  compofitions, 
ancient  or  miodern,  until  the  hour  of  fuppei^  arrives. 
A  fovereign  who  thus  employs  his  hours,  may  fair*. 


t-^Q  TJje  Influence  of  Solitude, 

lyexpcffi:  that  the  time  of  his  rainirters,  his  gener- 
als,  his  ciHcers  of  ftate.  fhallnot  be  iDis-fpenr, 

Many  inen  will  oev^r  exert  thernfelves  except 
in  matters  of  high  imporrance  ;  n^ver  employ  their 
■talents  liit  upon  great  cbje^ls  ;  and  bacaufe  they 
\oit.  this  opportunity,  "will  do  nothing.  Others  do 
iiothirg,  becaufe  t'^ey  do  not  know  how  to  diftrib- 
lite  their  time.  They  might  be  able  to  perform 
Icme  gTv??t  -and  ufeful  action,  if  <hey  would  only 
feize  ail  the  idle  half-hours,  and  employ  them  to 
the  attaiament  of  any  end  they  mijht  propcfe  ; 
for  there  are  many  important  events  v/hich  can  on- 
ly b^  prociiced  by  flov/  degrees.  But  th:fig  who 
are  not  only  fubjcfl:  to,  but  are  pleafed  with  and 
fclici^  continual  interruption  ;  v/hj  wiit  for  the 
return  of  good  humor,  and  remain  idle  until  thay 
feel  an  inclination  to  be  iaduMrious,  v/hich  can  only 
he  acquired  by  habit  ;  who  look  profpectivdy  for 
that  fepibnof  complete  leifare  which  no  man  ever 
finds  ;  will  loon  fallacioufiy  conclude,  that  they  have 
neither  opportunitynor  power  to  exert  their  talents ; 
and  to  kill  that  time  which  adds  a  burthen  to  th$ir 
lives,  will  faunter  about,  and  ride  from  place  to 
place,  morning,  noon  and  night, 

Oxie  of  the  greateft  and  moft  v/orthy  men 
that  ever  adorned  SwilTerland,  my  deceafed  friend 
Ifelin,  compofed  his  Ephemeridcs  during  the  debates 
in  the  Sen;ite  of  Bafil  ;*  a  work  which  all  the  no- 
bilit3^  of  Germany  ought  to  fcudy,  and  many  of 
them  have  read.  Gurov/n  ccL-brated  MseferjW-h-D 
now  refides  at  Ofnaburg^  is  tqually  honored  and 
belovsd  by  his  king,  the  prince,  and  all  our  niinif- 
ters,  as  a  aian  of  bufmefs  and  a  true  patriot,  and 
m  Ofnahurg^  by  the  nobiiity,  clergy,  citizens,  and 


*  Mir.  Ifelin  was  a  Re^iiier— While  he  was  compofing  h'n  Ejjhent' 
cr'ides,  the  Senatord  of  2; t;^/;/ conceived  that  he  was  repiftering  their 
debites,  ia  the  fame  manner  as  the  Counfeilors  of  Zurich  thought 
that  the  immoital  Gefner  was  coiledlmg  ti.eir-  proceedings  upon  his 
tablets,  while  hs  was  in  i^O.  taking  the  portiuits  of  thofe  woithies  in 
caricature. 


The  hfuierxc  of  Solitude*  1.3 1 

pe?.fant$,  raifed  himfelf,  by  the  eafy  exercife  of 
fpDiiive  fancy,  to  a  plnnack  of  fam^e  which  few 
Gcrtnan  ^Titer*  have  been  abk  to  reach.  ^ 

C<2/-5i?  Ji^r/z/'  fays  Hor^.c2  ;  and  this  reccm- 
menJation  will  extent^  with  equal  propriety  to  every 
hour  of  our  lives.  The  voluptuous  of  every  de- 
fcription,  ths  votariss  of  Bacchus^  and  ths  fons  of 
Anacrcon,  exhort  us  to  drive  away  corroding  care, 
to  promote  inceflixnt  gaiety,  to  enjoy  the  jfieeting 
mcmeats  as  they  pafs  ;  and  t::ere  is  found  reafonia 
thefe  precepts,  though  not  in  the  fenfe  in  whicli  they 
undenland  them,  i  o  enjoy  the  prefect  moments, 
tbey  mun:  not  be  ccniumed  in  drinking  and  delijau- 
chery,  but  employed  io  advancing  fteadily  towards 
that  end  we  have  propofed  to  attain.  We  may  ]:e 
folitary  even  amid  tke  joys  of  public  life.  Morn- 
ing vilits  may  be  paid  at  noon,  cards  of  ceremony 
may  becircuhted  through  hali  the  town,  perfonal 
apoearances  may  be  recorded  in  ever/  fafliional  le 
rflemblyjand  the  m.crning  and  the  eve-ing  ftill  kept 
facred  to  ourfelves.  It  is  only  neceflary  to  adopt 
fome  rep;uhr  plan  of  life,  to  encourage  a  fondnefs 
for  home,  and  an  inclination  to  continue  the  pur- 
fuit  cf  cur  defign.  It  is  the  man  of  labor  and  ap- 
plication alone  v;ho  has,  duriiig  the  day,  afforded 
benefit  to  his  neighbor,  or  fervice  to  the  ibate,  that 
can,  in  confcience,  fix  himfslf  an  whcle  night  at  the 
gaming-table,  without  ^aearing  or  f lying  one  inter- 
elling  word,  and  v/ithout,  on  his  return  home,  be- 
ing able  to  recoil -cl  any  other  expreffion  than  "  I 
have  won  or  1)11  fo  much  money." 

Th3  highe ft  advantage  whicii  we  derive  from 
lime,  and  the  fole  end  to  v^hxh  I  would  dired  thcfi 
reflefticns,  Petrarch  has  already  taught  us.    "  If,'^ 
fays  Petrarch,  "ycu  fe^l  any  i::chnation  to  ftrve. 
God,  in  which  confius  the  night  ft  felicities  of  cur 


§  M.  MaF^fer  uidlated  to  his  (daughter  during  the  exhibitions  cf 
the  theatre  aimofl:  the  -.vhok  of  hii  fugitive  pieces,  which  have  lo 
juftly  ijlvfn  incmortaiiry  ibhis  fame. 


S3  2  The  hfiience  of  Solituek, 

palure  ;  if  you  are  difp'-.fed  to  el  -vate  tVc  mind  by 
the  ilndy  of  litters,  which,  next  to  religicn,  pro- 
cures us  the  trueit  pleafures  ;  if,  by  your  fentiments 
p.nd  writings,  you  are  anxious  to  leave  behind  you 
ibmething  that  will  memcr'.fe  your  names  with  pof- 
terity,  ftop  the  rapid  prcgrefs  cf  your  days,  ?nd 
prolong  the  courfe  cf  "this  mofi:  uncertain  life  :  If 
you  feel  the  leaft  inclination  to  acquire  thefe  ad- 
vantages, ily,  ch  ily,  I  befeech  you,  hem  the  enj  -y- 
ments  of  the  world,  and  pafs  the  few  remaii:ing 
(lays  you  h:ive  to  live,  in  Solitude." 

It  is  net  in  the  power  of  every  man  to  follow 
ihis  advice  ;  but  there  are  many  who  are,  in  a 
greater  cr  lefs  degree,  mailers  of  their  time,  pnd 
who  may,  as  their  inclinations  lead  them,  eiiher 
preferve'or  relinquifh  their  connexions  with  the 
worU,  It  is,  therefore,  for  the  ben^  fit  cf  fuch  cha- 
raflers  that  i  (hall  continue  to  conlider  the  advan- 
tages which  Solitude  affords. 

Sclitude  infpires  the  mind  with  exquiiite  tane, 
extends  the  boundaries  of  thought,  enlarges  the 
fphera  of  aclion,  and  dilpenfes  a  fupericr  kind  cf 
ple?Jure,wh!<rh  neither  time  nor  acc  ident  can  remove. 

Tafle  is  refined  in  Solitude  by  a  moie  careful 
-feleclion  of  thoCe  beauties  which  bec:me  the  fub- 
je^ls  cf  our  contempl-ificn.  It  depends  ent irely up- 
on ourfelves  to  m?k2  choice  of  thofe  objects  from 
v/hich  we  may  derive  the  pure  ft  pleiifure  ;  to  read 
thofe  writings,  to  encourage  thcfer-fl^clions  which 
moPc  tend  to  purify  the  mind,  and  ftore  it  whli  tbe 
Ticlieft  varic:  ty  of  im-^.ges .  Repofm  g  wi th  fecuri  ty 
upon  the  efta?!  liihed  v/ifdom  cf  others  rather  than 
iipen  our  own  judgment,  the  mind  efcapes  the  con- 
tagion cf  thoie  falfe  notions  v/hich  are  fo  eaiily 
adopted  by  ih?  wcrH.  To  be  obliged  co::tinu?dly 
to  tell  one's  fHf,  This  i?  the  ler. timer t  which  ycti 
muil  er.t:_rtuin/'  is  indipocrt-iLl?.  "Why,  slas  ! 
will  no-  iVie^:  drive,  by  [ree  choice  and  reflecflion, 
according  to  the  nature  cf  the  fubjed',  to  gain  opin- 


The  Influence  cf  Solitude*  13^ 

i  "jHs  of  their  own,  ruther  than  fubmit  to  be  gnidecj 
by  the  arbitrary  di£ljtes  of  others  ?  Of  what  im- 
portance is  it  to  me,  th?.t  I  he  beau  monde  approves  of 
a  writhig  that  pleales  me  ?  In  what  do  ycu  infjruct 
me,  ye  cold  and  muerable  critics  ?  Does  your  judg- 
ment maks  m.e  feel  that  which  is  truly  fine,  ocbie, 
good  and  excellent,  with  higher  rehih  ?  How  c^n  1 
fubmit  to  the  deciiion  of  that  partial  tribunal  which 
decides  upon  the  u:erit  of  works  by  arbii rary  agree- 
m.ents,  examines  all  irregularly,  and  generally  de- 
termines wrong  ?  What  opinion  mufi:  i  entertain  of 
the  multitude,  who  only  repeat  what  ycu  direft 
them  to  lay,  a.nd  who  fpe?.k  your  fentiments  through 
the  channel  of  the  public  ?  What  reliance  can  be 
placed  in  the  reclitude  of  your  jadgm.ents  v/hen,  in 
reviewing  the  m.oit  cleteitable  publications,  you  can 
pronounce  that  the  whole  is  excellent,  becaufe  a  cer- 
tain perfon  of  Hterary  renown,  upon  v/hofe  v/ord 
ycu  would  condemn  the  chaf:efl  work,  has  thought 
proper  to  praife  it  ? 

It  is  impcfTible  ever  to  difcover  or  fee  the  en- 
cha'^.ting  beauties  of  truth,  unlefs  we  entirely  relin- 
Quidi  the  fociety  of  this  clafs  of  readers ;  for  they 
i  ]f:cl  the  judgment  before  we  fufpeQ:  them.  But 
enlip-htened  minds,  whofe  correft  tafte  immediately 
d'.ftinguiihes  beauties  from,  defecls ;  who  become; 
entr.uiiafdc  and  impafiioned  admirers  of  all  that  is 
excellent,  while  they  feel  a  natural  difguH:  at  that 
v;hich  is  bad  *,  who  enjoy  the  works  of  true  genius, 
and  faiter  the  fevereit  pain  froni  dullnefs,  abfurdity, 
and  bom-bail,  willingly  retire  from  the  crowd,  anJ 
alone,  or  with  a  few  chofen  friends,  resign  thein- 
ielves  to  the  pleafure  of  a  tranquil  interccurfe  vAih. 
?ii  that  antiquity  or  m.cdern  ages  have  produced  01 
diftinguifhed  excellence. 

it  i«i  then  we  learn  how  much  we  -are  capable 
of  contributing  to  the  perftclion  and  happinrfs  of 
nur  na!ure5  and  experience  the  mcft  agreeable  fen- 
lations  of  our  exiilence ;  it  is  then  thai  we  corcrat- 
(XII) 


134  ^'^^  Influence  of  SolkucL'* 

ulate  ourfelves  on  the  pcfTefTion  of  cur  mental  pvow- 
ers  in  the  fubje6ts  cn  which  they  are  employed  ;  it 
is  then  v/e  feel,  that  with  fuch  charaders  we  exert 
cur  faculties  to  the  advcintige  of  curfelves,  to  the 
ple.dbre  of  our  friends,  and  p=rhaps  alfo,  at  fome 
future  period,  to  tne  happinefs  of  fyrapathetic 
mind?,  to  wiioin  we  are  yet  unknown,  and  to 
whom,  iadeed,  the  pen  of  truth  can  never  be  dif- 
.pleaiiiig. 

Schtu:''e  gives  new  vigor  to  the  a£livity  of  the 
miiid,  multiplies  the  number  of  its  ideas,  and  extends 
its  fources  of  informal  ion  by  rendering  our  curiofi- 
ty  more  lively,  our  application  more  indefatigable, 
vur  perf--verar.c5  mere  firm. 

A  man  who  w^as  well  acquainted  with  nil  thefe 
advantiiges,  has  faid,  that  by  flent,  folitary  re- 
fieclion,  we  ex.rcife  and  ftrergthen  all  the  powers 
of  the  mind  :  the  many  obfcurities  which  rend^ir  it 
difiiicult  to  puriue  cur  path,  difperfe  and  retire,  and 
we  re',  urn  to  a  bufy,  foci?l  hfe  with  more  cheerful- 
nefs  and  content.  The  fphere  cf  cur  underftand- 
Ing  becomes  enhrgsd  by  refle^licn  ;  we  have  learn- 
ed to  furvey  more  ohj£61:$,  and  to  bind  them  intel- 
le£l:ualiy  together ;  v  e  carry  a  clearer  fight,  a  jufter 
judgment,  and  firmer  principles,  with  us  into  the 
world  in  which  v/e  are  to  live  and  acl ;  and  are  thea 
more  able,  even  in  the  midft  of  ail  its  diiirattions, 
to  preferve  our  attention,  to  ihiiik  with  accuracy, 
to  determine  with  judgment,  in  a  de^-ree  propor- 
tioned to  the  preparations  we  have  made  in  the  hcur 
of  retiremeot." 

The  curiofity  of  a  ratioi:al  mind  is,  in  the  cr- 
dinary  tranfa^lions  of  the  world,  v  ry  fooa  fatisfi- 
■ed  ;  but  in  Solitude  it  augments  dcday.  Ti:e  hu- 
man mind,  in  its  rdcarches  after  trut?.,  cannot  im- 
mediately difcover  the  er.d  it  wilhes  to  attain  :  it 
links  proof  to  cb'erv/ticr!,  j  :in3  experience  to  con- 
clufion,  and  by  cr;^  iriith  dcvelcpes  another.  The 
-aftrcnomers  who  iir^t  obferved  the  courfe  of  the 


The  Influence  of  Solitude,  13  j 

pl'ine's,  did  not  forefce  the  extenfive  influence 
which  their  difcoveries  would  one  day  produce  up- 
on the  hr.ppinefs  and  inursjis  of  mankind.  De- 
lighted to  view  the  fuite  cf  the  firm;^ment  during  the 
progrefs  of  the  night,  an:!  perceiving  that  the  rtars 
changed  their  fitaations,  their  ciirioiity  induced 
them  to  explore  the  caufes  cf  that  which  excited 
their  admiration,  and  determined  ~  them  to  purfue 
thi  road  of  fcience.  It  is  thus,  by  filent  afiiivity, 
that  the  foul  augments  its  pov/ers  ;  and  a  contem- 
plative mind  will  always  gain  advantage  in  propor- 
tion us  it  reflcfls  upon  the  immediate  caufes,  tbe- 
ei?ec^5,  and  the  psllibie  coniequeaces,  of  an  eflib- 
lifhed  truth. 

Tne  mind,  when  the  imagination  is  regulated 
by  the  lev^4  cf  reafcn,  proceeds  with  iru:h  iefs  ra- 
pidity ;  bur  it  never  takes  the  finne  ftfpS  after-vvard* 
that  it  did  before.  Men  v.  ho  pfniiiL  thenifelv^s  to 
be  drawn  afiie  by  the  charms  of  faac^^,  conftrnd 
worlds,  which  immediately  burft  like  airy  bub;  l?s  ■ 
of  foap  and  water ;  while  rational  minds  examine 
the  materials  of  their  prcje^lied  fabric,  and  ufb 
thcfe  only  which  are  good.  "  The  great  art 
learn  much,'*  fays  Lccke,  "  is  to  undertake  ahttk 
at  a  time." 

Dr.  Johnfon,  the  celebrated  Erglifh  writer^, 
has  very  happily  faid,  "  Ail  the  performances  cf 
kupjan  art,  at  which  we  look  with  praifs  cr  won* 
der,  are  inflar.cfs  of  the  r^fi'llsfs  force  of  perfeve- 
ranee:  it  is  by  this,  that  fh  -  quarry  becomes  apy* 
ramid,  and  tnat  diiirat  cruntne?  are  united  by  ca- 
nals. If  a  man  was  to  ccoodre  the  effr-ft  of  a  fm- 
gle  uroke  cf  the  pick-sxe,  cr  cf  an  imprellion  cf  a 
fpade,  with  the  geiierd  defign  and  fair  refalt,  he 
would  be  overwhelmed  by  the  fenfe  cf  iheir  difprc- 
poution ;  yet  thofa  petty  operations,  iivreiTa-.tly 
contiaurd,  in  time  furmount  the  greatefw  difficukic?,. 
and  m-^untains  are  kvcUed,  and  oceans  bounded^ 
by  the  ilendcr  force  cf  huuitin  brings.    It  is  there-^- 


1^6  The  Injluenci;  of  SoUiude, 

fere  of  the  u':mcft  impcrt::!nce  that  thoC^  who  hr.ve 
a: ly  intenticn  cf  deviatbg  from  the  beaten  roads  of 
life,  and  acquiring  a  repiitaticn  itiperior  to  name.i 
hourly  f.vept  away  by  tiaie  among  t/:e  refufe  of 
fame,  fhouid  add  to  their  realbn,  and  their  Iplrit, 
the  power  of  perhfting  in  their  purpofes  ;  acquire 
the  arc  of  fapping  what  they  cann.?t  better ;  aad  ihs 
habit  of  var  quiihing  obiliaate  rehftance  by  obftl- 
iiate  r  tracks.'* 

A6livity  animates  the  mofl  favage  def.irt,  con--' 
verts  the  dreary  cell  into  a  lively  world,  gives  im- 
mortal gbry  to  the  gemu^.  who  meditates  in  the  fi- 
ience  of  retirement,  and  crov/ns  the  ingenious  art- 
ifl:  v/ho  produces  his  chcf-d^aouvrcs  I'rom  a  fclitary 
v/ork-fhop  with  unfading  fame,  'i'he  mind^  in  prc- 
pordon  to  the  difficulties  it  meets  v/ith,  ana  the  re- 
I'iila'ice  it  has  to  furm.ount,  exercifes  its  powers 
'ivith  higher  pleafare,  and  raii'^s  i' s  efforts  with  great- 
tr  ze?J,  to  attain  fuccefs.  Apelles  being  reproached 
with  the  foiall  number  cf  pi6lures  he  had  painted, 
and  the  inceiiant  r.f.enticn  with  which  he  re-touch- 
ed liis  wcrks,  contenre  i  himfVlf  with  m:king  this 
reply  :      1  paint  for  pcfcrl'y:' 

'To  recommend  mcn:i:;ic  notions  of  Sclitrid^, 
?md  the  flerile  trancu-Hily  of  the  cloifter,  to  men 
who,  after  a  rsricnc  preparation  in  retirement,  ar-d 
2X1  affidiious  i::tircourfe  v/ith  their  own  minds,  are 
capable  cf  perfcrmirg  great  and  good  a(5cion3  in  fh.e 
world,  would  be  ex!rav::gant  and  abfurd.  FrinC(?s 
cx^.'^  ji  ''v^  ihe  lif? '  f  ii^-^nk? ;  mlni  Lers  of  flateare 
jij  l.i—:':  ^'/uvr't  in  tho  :~[:nce  of  th?  crnvcnt;  ge- 
licr.  ls  are  1.0  1  ;nger  chcien  from  the  members  of 
the  ciu-ch.  Petrarch  therefore  aptly  fiys,  "  Icon- 
r"e:i^n  the  Sdltiide  which  encourages  11  th,  and  the 
i'e-.iure  which  is  idly  and  u  •prciiiabi}'  employed  : 
-Solitude  xiiii.  be  rendered  ui'-hil  to  many  pnrpcfes 
cfliie.  A  man  who  is  ind'  hnt,  llilh-bl,  and  de- 
tached froTi  the  world,  mufl  inevitably  become  rac- 
Iduchchr  6iad  iiiiie*able,   buch  a  character  can  n;v^ 


Influence  of  ^ditude%  j^7? 

er  ^0  any  good  ;  he  cannot  religa  hirafelf  to  any 
iifcful  Icience,  cr  purfue  any  objeft  worthy  the  a> 
tenticn  of  a  great  man." 

He  may,  however,  procure  to  himft  lf  thepleri-- 
fures  of  the  mind  ;  thcfe  precious  plcafnres,  (b  ca- 
fily  icquired,  fo  open  to  the  licceis  of  all  mankind  : 
for  it  is  only  in  thofe  pleafures  which  are  fold  for- 
money,  when^/m  the  iriind  has  no  pardcipaticn,  and 
which  only  teed  to  afFord  a  moii-entary  relief  to 
languor,  oV.  to  drown  the  frnfes  in  forge  if ulr.efs, 
that  the  great  claim  an  exciufive  riciht ;  but  in  thofe 
delights  which  the  mind  is  capable  of  procuring  for 
its  peculiar  erjoyment,  they  have  no  privilege  ;  de- 
lights, which  are  reared  by  our  own  induiiry,  by 
ferious  reflection,  profound  thought,  deep  refearch, 
and  which  produce  the  more  hidden  fruits  of  know- 
ledge, the  love  of  truth  and  a  contemplation  of  the 
perfection  of  cur  nioral  and  phyiicai  nature. 

A  preacher  from  SwiiTerland  has  in  a  German 
pulpit  laid,  "  The  itreams  of  mental  pleafures, 
thofe  which,  of  courfe,  all  men  of  whatever  conul- 
tion  may  equally  partake,  flow  from  one  to  the  oth- 
er :  the  uream  of  which  v/e  have  mof-:  frequently 
tailed,  lofes  neither  its  flavor  nor  its  virtue,  but  fre^ 
quently  acquires  new  charms,  and  G:',nveys  addi- 
tional pkaiure  the  cftener  it  is  t?ited.  The  fu^- 
jects  of  ihefe  pleafures  are  as  unbcunded  as  thv? ' 
reign  of  tmth,  as  exiei:fiveas  the  v/orld,  as  unlim- 
ited as  the  divijDe  perf-ction.  The  inccrporeal 
pkafares,  therefore,  are  much  more  durable  tl  aa 
;ill  others.  They  neither  difappear  with  the  light 
of  the  day,  nor  chan^.:e  v/iih  the  extern?]  ftrms  of 
things,  nor  defcaid  v/i*h  cur  bodies  to  the  tomb  ; 
but  continue  v/hik  we  txid  ;  accompany  us  unc!er 
all  tlie  viciflitud'^s,  aot  ocly  of  cur  inort^.ilife,  but 
of  that  which  is  to  com.e  ;  lecure  us  in  the  durk  ieis  - 
of  the  night;  and  compenfate  f jr  all  the  miferi(;S 
we  are  doomed  to  fuffex.'' 

Meacf  cx-tked  i^i^i-^s  iheref..re  have  always^ 
(XK2)  ' 


13  ^  The  Influence  of  Soiltiide.. 

iimkiri  the  biiule  of  the  gay  world,  and  even  in  {he 
brilli?.nL  career  cf  hercifrn,  preferved  a  taite  tor 
mental  pieaPuras.  Engaged  in  affairs  of  the  raoix 
important  ccnfequence,  notwithiiaiiding  tre  variety 
of  otje<5ts  by  which  their  attention  was  dlllr riled^ 
they  were  fill  raithful  to  the  mufes,  and  fondly  de- 
voted their  minds  to  the  peruf.il  of  the  works  of 
genius.  Thry  gave  no  credit  to  the  idea,  that  read- 
ing and  knowledge  are  uieleis  to  great  men  ;  and 
frequenily  coadeTcended,  wirhout  a  blufh,  to  be- 
come writers  theirielves.  VJheu  Philip,  king  of 
Maccdon^  invited  Di  r-nyfius  the  Yourger  to  dine 
"v/ith  him  at  Cor'mth^  he  felt  an  inciination  to  deride 
the  father  of  his  royal  giieft  ,  becaufe  he  had  blend - 
4'd  the  charafters  cf  fovereiscn  and  poet,  and  had 
employed  his  hifnre  in  writing  odes  and  tragedies. 
"  Kow  could  the  king  find  i-dfure,''  f  lid  Philip,  "  to 
write  thele  trides  r''^"' In  thofe  hour?,"  anfwered 
Dionyfius,  ^'  v/nich  ycuand  I  fpend  in  drunkenaefs 
iind  Gebauchery," 

Alexander  was  remarkably  fend  of  reading. 
Wkilil  he  was  iilliog  the  vvcrld  witli  the  fame  cf  his 
vi^lories,  markirg  his  prr;gr.:f3  by  blood  and  fiauph- 
ter,  draggir.g  captive  monarch?  at  his  charict-v»'h:':els, 
marching  ever  frnokir.g  towns  and  ravaged  provin- 
ces, and  led  on  x&ili  increv-fm^;  ardcr  to  new  vic- 
tories, he  felt  niai^y  intervals  of  tine  hang  heav^?- 
on  his  hands,  and  iam.emed  that  Jfia  ailcrded  him 
no  becks  to  aniufe  his  leifure.  He  v/rcte  therefore 
to  Harpalus,  to  fend  him  the  works  of  Philijlus^  the 
tra-i^edies  cf  Euripides^  Soploclcs^  Ejcbylus^  aud  tiie 
dithyrambics  cf  ThaLfles, 

'Brutus,  the  aveager  of  the  violated  Tberty  cf 
Rome,  v/hile  Ihrving  in  the  army  under  Pom.pey, 
empl  ";yed  among  books  all  t;^e  moments  he  cuU 
fpare  frcm  the  duties  of  his  ii:aticn.  1  he  hours 
•which  v/ere  allotted  to  the  repoie  of  the  army,  he 
devoted  to  reading  aad  wr'ti^-g  ;  and  he  was  even 
ti^us  emplo}^ed  in  the  evening  prccc^din^  the  batJs 


Vm  hfuence  of  ^oTiiuJe, 

cf  Pharfilia ;  the  celebrated  battle  l^y  which  the 
eiTipire  of  the  univerie  was  decided.  1  he  army 
was  encamped  in  a  mirihy  pbia  ;  it  was  the  ipad- 
dle  of  fuPiimer,  and  the  h;^at  of  the  feaibn  exceffive. 
Thf  fervants  who  bore  the  tent  of  Brutus  did  not 
arrive  until  a  hte  hour.  Being  much  fatigued,  ha 
bathed,  and  tc  wards  noon  cauled  his  bcdy  to  be 
rubbed  with  oil,  while  he  waited  their  c.rrival.  1  ta- 
king fome  liitle  refrefhmeni,.  he  retired  to  his  rent, 
?.nd  while  others  were  locked  ii:  the  arms  cf  fleep, 
or  contempLiting  the  proliable  event  of  the  eiifaing 
day,  he  employed  himieif,  during  the  night,  ia 
drawing  a  plan  from  the  Hiilcry  cf  Pcljbliis, 

CiCcro,  who  was  more  fenfible  cf  men t:l  plea- 
fures  than  any  other  char:61:er,  fivs,  in  his  oration 
for  the  poet  'Jrchlas,  Why  111  ju Id  1  be  adir.med 
to  acknowledge  pleafures  like  thefe,  fmce,  for  lb 
many  3^e:irs,  the  enjoyment  of  them  has  never  pre- 
vented' me  from  reheving  the  wants  of  other?,  or 
deprived  m.e  of  the  courage  to  attack  vice  and  de- 

,  fend  \nrtue  ?  W^ho  can  juldy  blame,  who  can  cen- 
fnre  me,  if,  while  others  are  purluing  the  views-  cf 
intcreft,  gazing  at  fellal  Ih^ws  aiid  idle  ceremonies, 
expbrirg  new  pleafures,  er.gr.ged  in  midnight  rev- 
els, in  tne  dillracticn  of  gauging,  ihe  madnefsof  in- 
temper3.nce,  neither  reoofn'^g  tp.e  b  vciy  nor  recrea- 
ting the  mind,  1  Ipend  the  reccllectve  hcurs  in  a 

I  pleaiing  review  of  m.y  pari:  life,  in  dedicating  m.y 

1  time  to  learning;  and  the-mufes." 

Pliny  the  Elder,  full  of  the  fime  fpirit,  devo- 

I  ted  every  moment  of  h.s  life  to  learning.  Some 
perfon  ciways  read  to  him  during  his  mrals ;  and 
he  never  travelled  without  a  b:ck  and  portabb 
whting-delk  by  his  fide.  He  made  extrafts  fraiii 
evfry  work  he  read ;  and  fcarcely  conceiving  him- 
ielf  alone  while  his  faculties  were  abf^rbed  in  ileep, 
he  endeavored  by  his  diligence  to  double  the  dunv 
ticn  cf  his  exii]:ence. 

I'iiny  the  Younger  read  ^:^-:icreverit  w;:s  p:fl> 


1 40  ^h'e  hijluence  of  Bclitude* 

ble,  wlrether  ridbg,  walking,  fitting,  cr  whenever 
the  lubject  cf  hi's  eniplcyment  afforded  him  an  op- 
pr;riumty ;  for  he  msde  it,  indeed,  m  invariable 
rule  to  prefer  the  dilcharge  of  his  duty  to  thofecc-- 
cupations  which  he  follov/ed  cnly  a?  aa  aiBufement. 
Ir  was  this  difpoftioa  which  fo  frongly  inclined 
him  to  Soliiude  and  retirement.    "  Shall  I  never 
break,"  f;id  he,     the  chains  by  which  I  em  with-|| 
held  ?  Are  they  indiiToluble  ?  No  !  i  dare  not  hopel 
f  -.T  fuch  an  event !  Every  da}^-  adds  new  tcrmentsl 
to  th?  former.    Scarcely  is  one  duty  performed, 
than  another  is  iQ-ipofed  ;  acd  the  chain  of  bufmefs 
becomes  every  day  more  heavy  and  oppreflive."  - 

Fetrarch  was  always  gloorp.y  and  lQV/-fpinted,j 
except  while  he  v/as  reading  or  writing,  efpeciallyl 
when  he  was  prev(t'nt':£d  from  religning  himfelf  ia  || 
Sohtude  to  the  fine  prirenHes  of  poetry  on  the  banks - 
of  fome  inlpiring  f^reani,  among  the  romantic  rocks 
and  mcuutains,  or  the  fiower-eD.amelled  vaUies,  of 
the  Alps.  To  avoid  the  Icfs  ,of  time  during  his- 
travels,  he  conilantly  wrote  at  every  inn  where  he 
f'.opped  f.:r  3-cfr.?[hment.  One  of  his  friends,  the 
biili  p  of  Cayillon,  being  alarmed,  left  the  intents 
appiiciitio;!  v/ith  which  he  read  and  wrote  when  at 
Vautlufc^  fhould  entir:;iy  d-^-roy  his  health,  which 
v/as  already  greaily  isnpa^re  j,  deCred  him  one  day- 
to  give  him  the  key  of  his  h^br:-iry.  Petrarch  gave 
it  to  him.  Immcdljicb/,  v/ithout  fufpeclir-g  the  mo- 
tive of  his  Riqiieii ;  v/he:i  the  good  bifhop  inftantiy 
lockin.s;  up  his  bocks  and  v/riting-delk,  faid,  "  I 
iaterd:'5t  you  fnjm  pen,  ink,  p?per  and  books,  fcr 
thi  fcce  cf  ten  days."  Petrarch  fslt  the  feverity 
of  the  fenteno^,  but  conquered  the  violence  of  his 
•feeling?,  and  obeyed.  1  he  fiidl  day  appeared  long- 
er to  iiim  than  a  ye:tr ;  on  xhe  fecoad,  he  was  af- 
flicte^d  With  the  head-ache  from  morning  till  ni?ht  ; 
iind  on  ihe  third,  he  was  attacked  by  a  fever.  I'he 
bi'hop,  aillcled  by  thi  condition  to  which  he  w.;& 


The  Influence  of  BoUhuIe,  1 4 1 

re.^;uced,  returned  him  the  key,  and  reftcred  him 
to  health. 

1  ne  late  Earl  of  Chatham,  as  I  have  been  in- 
formed b}^  his  cwa  nephrrv,  ray  intimate  friend^ 
was,  in  his  youth,  cornet  in  a  regiment  of  dragoons, 
w.iich  was  quartered  in  a  fmall  town  in  EngLtnd. 
He  difci:iargcd  his  diicy,  up3n  all  occafions,  with 
fcrupulcu-:;  a' tention  ;  but  the  moment  his  duty 
v/as  performed  j  he  retired  to  Solitude  during  the 
remainder  of  the  day.  and  employed  his  hours  alone, 
wiihout  vifiting  or  being  vifited,  in  reading  the  mcll 
celebrated  amhors  of  Roine  and  Athens,  Attacked 
at  an  early  piriod  of  life  by  an  hereditary  gout, 
which  he 'wifhed  to  eradicate,  his  mode  of  l.ving 
was  extremely  frugal  and  abftemious.  The  feeble 
ftate  of  his  hrcalth  perhaps  made  h'm  fond  of  retire- 
ment ;  but  it  was  certainly  in  Solitude  that  he  laid 
the  foundation  of  that  glory  which  he  afterwards 
acquired. 

Characters  like  this,  it  will  perhaps  be  fald,  are 
not  now  to  be  found ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  both 
tne  affertion  and  the  idea  would  b^  ^nzTicvw^s 
Was  the  Earl  of  Chatham  infen:r  in  greatnefs  to 
a  Roman  ?  And  will  his  fon  who,  v/nile  yet  a  youth, 
thundered  f:rth  his  eloquence  In  the  fenate  hke 
Demoiiihenes,  and,  hke  Perichs,  captivated  the 
hearts  of  all  who  heard  him ;  v\  ho  now,  when  htile 
more  tha.n  thirty  years  of  ag?,  makes  himfelf  fear- 
ed and  refprcted  as  the  Prime  Miniiler  of  the  Bri- 
tifh  em.pire,  ever  t';. ink  or  a 61,  under  any  circuni- 
ftan:es,  with  lefs  greatnefs  than  his  illuflrious  fa- 
ther ?  What  men  have  once  been,  they  niay  always 
b3.  Europe  now  produces  men  as  great  as  ever 
fwayed  tr.e  fceptre,  or  commanded  the  annies  of 
Greece  or  Rome.  Wifdom  and  virtue,  where  an 
inchnation  to  attain  them  preva'ls,  may  increafe  as 
much  in  public  as  in  private  hi e,  as  well  in  th^  pa- 
laces of  kinn;s  as  under  the  roof  of  the  humble  cot- 
tage.  Wife  Solitude  is  no  where  more  refpeolable 


l42  The  Infiucucc  of  ^d'ltude. 

than  in  the  pr/iiice.  1  he  ftatefmaD  TCi?.y  there,  la 
profound  trar.quillity,  plan  the  mcil  important  en- 
terprizes,  and  live  vviii-i  c?i:nnef3  and  arntent,  pro- 
vided he  difclxirges  his  duty  without  cftentation, 
and  avoids  the  contagion  of  weak  and  friv^dcus 
minds.  InCrucdon  m?.y  be  acquired  at  a!l  time.^, 
2nd  in  every  pl.xe ;  and  although  it  n:ay  be  diffi- 
cult to  return  from  the  p:R.!.h  which  a  man  has  once 
trod,  and  commence  a  new  career,  he  may  wifely 
employ  the  remainder  of  his  days,  uniefs  while  he 
has  the  power  to  diiplay  th?  fieady  righ.t  of  truth 
he  contends  himfelf  with  emitting  the  occafional 
twinkling  of  ihe  gl jw-vv\cnn. 

Solitude  will  ultimately  render  the  mind  fupe* 
rior  to  ail  the  viciffitudes  and  miferies  of  Hfe.  iVe 
man  to  whofe  boibm  neither  riches,  nor  pleafure, 
nor  grandeur,  can  convey  felicity,  may,  with  a  bock 
hi  his  hand,  learn  to  forget  his  cares  under  the 
frivtndiy  (hade  of  every  tree.  Tie  taftes  the  plea- 
fares  whicli  Solitude  affords  with  exquifite  delight ; 
pleafures  hvely  and  varied,  pure  and  for  ever  new. 
At  his  defk  he  feels  h's  mind  exert  itfelf  with  frefh 
vigor  ;  ths  exercif^  of  his  facalpes  then  aliords  him 
the  moft  pleafing  feiifation  of  his  exiPcence,  and  in- 
fpires  an  idea  of  the  chara6l;'r  which  he  may  in  fu- 
tur.?,  ifheplealis,  attain.  If  his  views  are  great, 
and  his  inclination^;  pure,  the  pleafures  of  Solitude 
become  proportionably  great  and  good  ;  he  f^-ars  in 
a  greater  degres  the  pernicious  pdfui  of  flattery , 
and  rejrccs  with  higher  difdain  the  purfuit  cf  idle 
and  frivjlous  av.iufementp. 

He  who  Ihuas  the  fociety  of  men  in  order  to 
obtain  their  love  and  eitcem,  who  rifes  with  the  fiui 
to  held  conveife  with  the  dead,  is,  without  doubt, 
cot  booted  at  the:  break  cf  djiy.  The  fecrfes  of  fuch 
a  man  repofe  qniedv  in  their  fl.ills,  and  his  doers 
remain  carefully  bcl'.rd  againft  the  intrufion  of  idle 
loungers.  He  f.udies,  hov/rvcr,  both  tii^u  and  man-- 
iiersj  never.  Lies  fight  of  the.  iraufactioas  cf  ths 


Ttje  Inf  tienca  of  S'litiid'e,  143 

v/orld ;  cafls  a  retrofpeclive  eye  upon  the  know- 
ledge which  his  ituely  and  experieace  have  R-ained  ; 
and  every  oblervatioii  v.  hich  he  makes  on  hfe,  cc!i- 
firms  a  truth  or  refutes  a  prejudice:  for  in  Soli- 
tude, the  v/hcle  f^'flem  of  Ufe  is  unveiled,  liripped 
cf  its  falfe  glare,  and  rep'^eleated  in  its  natural  Hate 
to  cur  view  :  truth,  which  ia  the  common  inter- 
courfe  of  men  always  hes  corxealed,  here  exhibits 
itfelf  in  naked  fimplicity.  Ah  1  how  happy  is  that 
man  who  has  attained  to  a  lituation  where  he  is  not 
under  the  necefiity  of  difguifing  truth  ! 

But  thefe  plcafures  of  Solitude  not  incom- 
patible with  our  duty  to  the  public,  fmce  they  are 
the  ncblzft  excrcifes  in  which  we  can  employ  cur 
faculties  f.:r  the  g.3od  of  mankind.  Can  it,  in  any 
Ctuanon,  be  a  crime  to  honor,  to  adore,  end  £1- 
credly  to  fpeak  the  tru'.h?  Can  it  be  a  crime  bold- 
ly and  publ'cly  to  announce,  as  tlie  occafion  m^y 
require,  that  which  an  ordinary  individual  w-  uki 
tremble  to  thit;k  of?  and  to  prefer  a  generous  free- 
dcm  to  a  conanual  rcf: rain!  ?  is  not  the  liberty  of 
the  prefs  the  channel  through  w'rxh  writers  difcfe 
the  light  of  truth  among  the  people,  and  difplay  its 
radiance  to  the  eyes  of  the  great  ?  Good  writers 
infpire  the  mind  with  courage  to  think ;  and  is  not 
the  free  c  rmmunication  of  lentirnent  a  caufe  cf  the 
prcgref?.  and  improvement  of  hamsn  reafoa  ?  It  is 
precifely  this  love  cf  liberty  w]:ich  leads  men  into 
Soli'u:]e,  that  they  may  throw  off  the  chains  by 
which  tliey  are  confined  in  the  world :  it  is  from 
this  difpohrion  to  be  free,  that  he  who  thinks  in 
SoUtude  boldly  fpeaks  a  language  which  perhaps  in 
focieiy  he  v/ould  nor  havedT:red  to  hazard  without 
prr?caution.  Timudi^y  never  finds  its  way  into  So- 
litu:"!e.  1  he  man  who  has  courage  to  retire  under 
pe?,cefnl,  •  lonely  fhades,  c'ifdains  to  ex-rcife  a  bafe 
fubmifilon  to  the  pride  an  l  infclfnce  cf  the  great, 
and  boldly  terrs  from  the  face  of  defpot'.fm  tlie  mafic 
by  which  it  is  concealed. 


€44  2^'^'-'  Injluence  of  Solitude, 

Soli'ude  conveys"  the  mo:'l  fublune  and  kfling 
pleafares  to  the  f  :ul,  u.r.lefs  the  body  v.^hich  it  iri- 
habits  be  entirely  der?y:\i  ;  ple-ilures  which  inipirc 
ferenity  in  every  fitur.ti  n  of  life,  aliV  rd  coi;foiaticn 
under  all  its^  mirfcrtunes,  co.nir.ue  fcr  evt  r  unex- 
haufitd,  and  at  length  become  as  nscelinry  to  cur 
happinefs,  as  it  is  to  ihe  debaiiclied  iinn:]  of  a  man 
of  the  world  to  be  for  ever  trifling,  inr.6live,  or  run- 
nhig  from  door. to  door  in  fearck  of  conteinprible 
joys  that  sre  never  to  be  fourd.  Cic~ro,  fpeaking 
of  the  pleafures  of  the  mind,  f^'ys,  ^'  They  employ 
us  io  youth,  and  amufe  us  in  old  age  ;  in  prcfperi- 
ty  they  grace  and  eniheilifh,  in  adverfity  they  af- 
ford us  ihelrer  and  fuppnrt ;  delightful  at  home, 
and  eafy  abroad,  they  fcften  flumber,  fhorten  fa- 
tigue a-^.d  enliven  retirement.*' — "  The  Belles  Let- 
tres,"  fays  Phny  the  Younger,  "are  my  delight 
and  confoLition.  1  knov>^  of  no  kudy  mere  agreea- 
ble :  there  is  no  m'sforlmie  which  they  c?nnot  rdle- 
viate.  In  the  pfBictir-ns  1  fe.d  fcr  the  fufFerings  of 
my  wife,  ihe  finknefs  cf  niy  fervanrs,  the  death  of 
iny  friends,  I  fi:id  no  relief  but  in  my  fludies  ;  fcr, 
although  1  am  then  made  fen^ihl^e  of  the  magnitude 
of  mv  evils,  thev  neverthehfs  become  more  fuo- 
pcrtabb/^ 

Phibfophy,  a  love  cf  I  tters,  cll  that  affords 
pleafnre  or  adds  dignilv  to  retirement,  can  only  bj 
!e?rned  in  Solitude.  Fine  (afhe  cannot  be  either 
cultivated  or  preferred  among  thofe  vain  pretenders 
who,  while  you  difconrfe  v»^i<h  them  upcn  fubje<^s 
cf  fcience,  fpeak  of  learning  with  contempt,  and  fre- 
qnently  tell  you  with  a  fneer,  "Oh!  1  cever  in- 
quire into  fuch  vulgp.r  thirgs." 

The  habit  cf  thinking,  of  making  new  difccv- 
^ries,  of  acqnirin?^:  new  ideriF,  is  a  never-failing  re- 
foirrce  to  him  v/ho  feels  his  mind  enrcred  by  cb- 
ferva  ion,  Rx;d  knows  how  to  apply  the  knowledge 
v/hich  I'.e'gain^.  When  Demetrius  hud  captured 
the  city     Alegar  a,  the  foidicrs  prepared  to  plunder 


7il}e  Influence  of  Solttiid^.  iaS 

\t ;  the  Athenians,  however,  interceding  flrongly 
for  its  inhabitants,  prevailed.  Demetrius  was  fat- 
isfied  with  expelling  the  garrlfon,  and  declared  th« 
city  free.  Amid  thefe  tranfacdons,^  he  recclleded 
Siilpo,  a  philofopher  of  great  repntation,who  fought 
only  the  retirement  and  tranquillity  of  a  ftudious 
life.  Having  fent  for  him,  Demetrius  alked  if  they 
had  taken  any  thing  from  him — "  No,"  replied 
Stilpo, Ifowichione  thai  wanted  to fieaiany  hmvkdgeJ^ 
ScUiude  is  the  channel  through  which  ail  thofe 
things  flow  which  men  conceal  in  the  ordinary  com- 
merce of  life.  The  wounded  feelings  of  a  man  who 
is  able  and  difpofed  to  write,  may,^in  Solitude,  de- 
rive the  greatefl  comfsrts  from  literary  compofition. 
The  pen,  indeed,  is  not  always  taken  up  becaufe 
ve  are  alone  ;  but  if  v/e  are  inclined  to  write,  it  is 
indifp^nfably  neceffary  that  we  fhould  enjoy  undif- 
turbsd  quietude.  The  man  difpofed  to  cultivate 
philofophy,  or  to  court  the  mufe,  mufl  be  free  from 
all  embarraflinent.  He  mull  not  hear  his  children 
crying  every  moment  at  the  door,  nor  mufl  his  fer- 
vants  incefTantly  intrude  with  meilages  of  ceremony 
and  cards  of  comphnient.  In  fhort,  he  muft  be 
alone.  Whether  walking  in  the  open  air,  or  feated 
in  his  clofet,  reclined  under  the  fhade  ofarfpread- 
ing  tree,  or  ftretched  upon  his  fopha,  he  muil  follow 
all  the  irapulfes  of  his  irind,  and  be  at  liberty  to 
chan^^e  his  fituatioa  when  and  where  he  pleJifes* 
To  write  with  fuccefs,  he  mml:  feel  an  irrefifiible 
inclination,  and  be  able  to  obey  the  dictates  of  his 
■tafte  and  genius  without  impediment  cr  reflraitir. 
Unlefs  all  thefe  advantages  be  united,  the  pr.':grtfs 
of  the  work  muil  be  interrupted,  and  the  eliorts  of 
the  mind  fufpended,  uniil  it  feels  that  divme  infpir- 
ation  which  is  capable  of  fubduing  every  difficulty, 
and  fur  mounting  every  cbibcle.  An  'author  can 
never  write  well,  unlefs  he  feels  a  fecret  call  within 
his  breaft,  unlefs  he  watches  ^for  thofe  propitious 
moments  when  the  mind  pours  forth  its  ideas,  and 
(XIII) 


146  The  Influence  cf  Solitude, 

the  her.rt  w-.r-n=^;  with  th-  fubjeci-.  Revived  by 
<5heerful  prc.i;>-:c>:%  '  '  *  -.1  bv  the  noble^  fenti- 
fnenrsj  urged  by  CO  .  f  c-ifilciilties,  the  mind 

will  niuke  a  povv-enbi  e;r..it,  ]e  t  houghts,  in 

iuirable  expiTfli-ns,  fl  .w  ip-n!:ane.)ufly  from 
his  pen.  I  h.,:  q-ellir  n.  wher  er  he  cughl:  or  ought 
not  To  write,  wul  t!;ei  be  ref  -iv  /d.  The  inclin:i- 
tion  is  irrehn:ible  aaci  will  "e  i  ^dulge:!,  even  at  the 
expiree  cf  fortune,  fainiiy,  fricn  ..s,  p^troiis,  and 
all  that  we  pcflels. 

].'etr:ir:h  thlt  this  fecret  in^pulfe  when  he  tore 
himfelf  fr:m  Avignon^  them  hi  vicious  and  corrupt- 
.  ed  city  cf  his  time,  to  which  ihf  Pope  had  ti'Tnis- 
ferred  the  p';.p-d  chair.  Aklioiig  h  nored  wit :  the 
•-protection  of  t  .e  holy  father,  of  prin^-^es  :;nd  cardi- 
'nals,  frill  yo'sr.g  nnd  fiih  ;.f ;]  bi^  cri'or,  he  exiled 
-himfelf  from  thtit  brilliant  c-..)urr,  aiiJ  re  (ire. I  to  th« 
famous  Solitude  of  ^^z/r/zz/a',  at  ih:^  chtlmce  ofnx 
leagues  from  Aviivwi^  where  h  hid  ^  rJy  one  fer- 
vant  to  attend  h:u],  and  all  his  p  hichi: iis  c  -nCf:ed 
of  a  finall  houie  and  li'  de  «^,.rde  :.  '  h=ir:  ned  with 
the  natural  beauty  v/aich  funound  .d  ih's  hunable 
retreat,  he  removed  his  library  n:-  if  ;  andj  during 
his  refidence  there,  compl?ted  all  rhs  w.  ■•nSjof  v/?.'ch 
before  he  had  only  j1<  t .  he  '  th:^  o  \ ih. :ies .  Pt  tr Ar ;  h 
wrote  more  at  Vauclufc  than  at  any  other  pp.:^e  w'xra 
he  refided  ;  but,  althou^:h  he  w.is  co  t'ln^niilv  em- 
ployed in  polifhing  his  writhig'^,  he  h  iita  ^^d  \  yz% 
before  he  could  refdve  to  niake  them  pu*  f  ;.  Vir- 
gil calls  the  leifure  v/hic  .  he  enjoyed  ■  t  Ihipks  igno- 
ble and  obfcure  ;  but  it  wa^  during  this  Idibre  t'^at 
he  wrote  his  Georgics.  the  UKhl  perfeht  of  all  his 
works,  and  which  fn:-v/s  in  alinoii  every  hne  that 
he  wrote  for  imnnarrahty. 

Every  great  a^d  ex-:elh^nt  wri^'^rha-^  this  i^o'^le' 
view,  and  locks  wba  cat'  ufiahn  towards  t^e  luhra- 
,g£S  of  pcfterity.    An  inferior  writer  aibs  a  more 
moderate  recompence,  and  ibi:.ienmes  obtains  the 
defired  reward.   B^th^  licwevcr,  muli  v/ithdraw 


Ihe  hjlumce  of  Solitude,  I47 

fr.*;m  the  diRnichons  of  the  world,  (eek  the  filenc^ 
cf  the  foreft,  and  the  frefhncTs  of  the  fhade,  and 
retire  as  it  were  into  th-ir  own  minds.  To  prcduce 
a  work  capable  of  reach'ng  futu!-e  ge  ;er-;.tions,  or 
wcrthy  of  the  attention  of  c.-.temponiry  fage?,  the 
love  c  f  Srlitu  e  mufl:  er.tirily  occr.py  the  foul ;  fcr, 
to  the  adva\:t:g€3  rcfu.lting  from  Solitude,  every 
thinfx  thsy  perform,  all  that  they  obt^:in,  mull:  be 
attiibuted.  Every  advantage  a  wTiter  gains  by 
profour:d  thinking  is  due  to  Solrtude;  he  there  re- 
vievvs-a:  .d  arranges  hatev^r  in  t"e  world  "has  made 
an  imprefiion  on  his  mind,  and  l]iarp*ns  the  dart  of 
fatire  sgainft  the  inve^err.cy  of  prfjudxe  and  the 
obflinacy  cf  opinion.  1  he  fi^ults  of  mankind  {hike- 
the  moral  writer,  and  the  defire  cf  correcting  thsni 
a^ita^es  his  Ibul  as  r^iiich  as  t'^e  dcfre  of  pleafing 
aclaates  that  of  ethers.  I'he  dtfire  of  imiriCitalify, 
however,  ]s  the  lalt  in  which  a  writer  ought  to  in- 
dulge. No  one  need  altrmpt  it,  unltfs  he  pofTsfs 
t '  e  gonius  cf  a  Bacon — can  think  with  the  acutenefs 
of  a  Vcltoire  ;  compofe  with  the  eafe  end  ei?gance 
of  a  RouiTeau  ;  and,  like  them,  is  able  to  produce 
mailer-pieces  worthy  of  being  tranfniiitf  d  to  poiier- 
ity.  Charr^ters  like  thefe  alone,  can  fay,  "  Our 
minds  are  animated  by  the  fw^et,  conr;]atory  re- 
fleclion,  chat  our  nam^-s  will  be  rem-embered  when 
v/e  are  no  more,  by  ths  plealing  whifper  of  flattery 
which  we  hea.r  from  feme  of  our  cotemporaries,  of 
the  approbation  v/e  (hnll  hereafter  receive  from 
thofe  who  are  yet  unborn,  to  whofe  inftruclion  and 
happinefs  we  have,  with  all  the  ardor  cfefteem.  and 
love,  devoted  cur  labors.  We  feel  within  us  thole  ■ 
feeds  cf  emulation  which  exc  te  us  to  refcue  from 
death  cur  better  part,  and  whidi  prevent  the  hap- 
pieil  m.cmxents  of  our  lives  from  being  buried  in  ob» 
livij-n.'^ 

The  love  of  fame,  cs  well  by  f  eble  light^ 
cf  the  lamp  as  on  the  throne  or  in  the  field  cf  b?.tile,  . 
produces  a6lion$,  the  memory  of  \\hich  is  not  ev-- 


M8  The  Influence  of  SQlltude, 

tinguifhed  by  mortcility,  nor  buried  \vith  us  m  the 
tcmb.  The  meridian  of  life  becomes  then  as  bril- 
liant as  its  morning.  "  Ths  praifes/'  fays  Plutarch, 

beflowed  upon  great  and  exalted  minds  only  fpur 
on  and  rcufe  their  emulation.  Like  a  rapid  torrent, 
the  glory  v;hich  ihey  have  already  acquired  hurries 
them  irrenitibly  on  to  every  thing  that  is  great  and 
noble.  They  never  confider  themlclves  fufHciently 
rewarded.  I'heir  prefent  scl:ions  are  only  a  pledge 
of  v/hat  may  be  expected  from  them,  and  they 
would  blufn  not  to  live  faithful  to  their  glory,  and- 
to  render  itftill  more  iiluflirious  by  the  nob  led  deeds*" 
The  man  to  wkofe  ear  idle  adulation  and  iniip- 
id  compliment  is  difguuing,  will  feel  his  heart  v^arm 
"^'hen  he  hears  vyiih  v»hat  enthuliafm  Cicero  fays. 

Why  fhculd  we  diiTemble  what  it  is  impolTible 
for  us  to  conceal  ?  Why  fliculd  we  not  be  proud 
of  confeiFrng  candidly  that  we  all  afpire  to  fame  ? 
The  love  of  praife  iniluences  all  mankind,  and  the 
greateil  minds  are  mcft  fufceptible  of  it.  The  phil- 
cjicphers  who  molt  preach  up  a  contempt  for  fame, 
prefix  their  names  to  their  works  ;  and  the  very 
perfonnances  in  which  they  dscry  cftentation  are 
evident  proofs  of  their  vanity  and  love  of  praife. 
Virtue  requires  no  other  reward  for  all  the  toils  and 
dangers  to  which  fne  expoles  herfelf,  than  tliat  of 
fame  and  gbrr. — Take  away  this  flatterirg  reward, 
and  what  would  remain  in  t'le  narrov/  career  of 
]ife  to  prom.pt  her  exertions  ?  If  the  u'ind  cculd  not 
launch  into  the  profpect  of  fu'urity,  v/ere  the  cper- 
lations  of  the  foul  to  be  limited  to  the  fpace  that 
bounds  thcfe  of  the  body,  fhe  v/ould  not  v/eaken 
herfelf  by  conft  uit  fatigues,  nor  v/earv  herfelf  v/ith 
continu2l  watchingsand  anxieties  ;  fhe  would  not 
think  even  life  itfelf  worthy  cf  a  IJlruggls  ;  but  there 
lives  in  the  breall  cf  every  good  man  a  certain  prin- 
ciple which  unceafingly  prompts  and  infpires  him  to 
the  purfuit  of  a  fame  beyond  the  prefent  hour  ;  a 
fiime  not  coDariiecifuratt;  to  cur  iiiiuiQrtal€.^€iice5 


/ 


The  Influence  of  ^cliitide. 


149 


hilt  co-extJiifive  with  the  pcfcerity. — Can  we, 
who  every  day  expofe  ouHVlves  to  dangers  for  cur 
country,  and  have  never  palled  one  moment  of  our 
thne  without  anxiety  and  trouble,  meanly  think  that 
all  confcioufnefs  fhall  be  buried  with  us  in  the  grave  ? 
If  the  greatefl  men  have  been  careful  to  preferve 
Iheir  buflos  and  their  ftatues,  -thofe  images  not  of 
th-ir  minds  but  of  their  bodies,  ought  we  not  ratlr  r 
to  tranfii  it  to  pciierity  the  refemblance  of  ourwif- 
dom  and  virtue  ?  For  my  part,  at  leaft,  i  acknow- 
iex-^ge,  that  in  all  my  2cl:ioriS  I  conceived  that  i  was 
diffeminatipg  and  tranrrnittingmyfame  to  the  remo- 
teit  corners  and  the  lad  ages  of  the  world.  Whether, 
therefore,  my  confciouihels  of  tlii.s  fhall  ceafe  in  the 
grave,  or.,  as  fome  have  thought,  fliall  furvive  as  the 
property  of  the  foul,  is  cf  Utile  importance  ;  for  of 
one  thing  I  am  certain,  that  at  this  infcant  I  feel 
from  that  refleclion  a  flattering  hope  and  delightful 
fenilition." 

This  is  the  true  enthufi?.fm  with  which  wc 
ought  to  infpire  the  bofoms  of  the  young  nobiHtyc. 
Were  any  one  happy  enough  to  light  up  this  gen- 
erous flame  in  their  hearts,  and  thereby  inure  them 
to  accnftant  application  to  their  lludies,  we  fhouki 
fee  them  (hun  the  pernicious  phafures  of  their  age^ 
and  enter  with  digni':y  on  the  career  of  heroes :  we 
might  then  exptct  them  to  perform  the  noble  ft  ac- 
tions, to  add  new  luftre  to  fcience,  and  brighter  rays 
to  glory.  To  exak  the  minds  of  roble  youths,  it 
is  only  necellary  to  infpire  them  wiih  an  ^verfion  to 
every  thing  that  is  mean  ;  to  excite  a  difgult  for 
every  thmg  that  enervates  the  body  or  weakens  ths 
faculties  of  the  mind  ;  to  remove  from  their  com- 
pany thofe  vilepccntcmptilde  flatterers  Vv ho  are  con- 
tinually defcanting  on  the  pleailires  of  fenie,  and 
who  feek  to  acquire  intereft  and  fertuiie  only  by 
leading  them  into  criires  ;  decrying  every  thing 
that  is  great,  and  rendering  them  iuipicicus  of  evjry 
thing  that  is  goo.l.    The  defire  cf  ey^eading  cur 


Sj^c  Tlje  Infaicnce  of  ZoUiuii*. 

£ime  by  noble  deeds,  and  cf  increafirg  our  credit 
by  internal  dignity  and  greatnefs  of  foul,  pollelies 
advantages  which  neither  high  rank  nor  illuiirious 
birth  can  beftov/  \  and  which,  even  on  the  throne, 
cannoi  bs  acquired  without  the  aid  cf  virtue,  and 
a  fixed  attention  to  the  faffrages  of  pofterity. 

The  feeds  of  future  fame  ar^  in  no  inftance 
more  plentifully  fown,  than  by  the  bold  fatiriii  who 
aares  to  condemn  the  follies  cf  the  muliitude,  to 
paint  their  prejudices  and  expcfe  their  vices  in  glow- 
ing and  unfadirg  colors ;  and  whcfe  v/ritirgs,  if 
they  fail  to  reform  the  people  of  that  ?ge,  may  cpe- 
rj.te  upon  fucceeci^g  generations,  extend  their  in- 
fluence to  their  ch}id--en's  children,  and  perhaps 
render  them  more  wdfe.  judicious  precepts,  great 
examples,  merited  glory,  produce  their  efie^is,  when 
tht:  man  of  merit,  whom  envy  has  purfued,  has  de- 
fcended  to  his  grave.  O  Lavater  I  thofe  bafe,  cor- 
Tupted  fouls  who  only  fhine  a  moment  and  are  for 
€ver  extioguiflied,  will  be  forgotten,  while  thy  me- 
rit is  honored  a!:d  beloved.  1  hy  foibles,  for  with- 
out  them  thou  wTuldfi  not  in  elfc£i:  have  been  fo 
great,  will  no  longer  be  remem.bered,  and  thofe 
qualities  which  diifeguiih  thee  from  ethers  will 
iilonc  be  feen  !  I  he  rich  variety  of  thy  language. 
-?he  judgment  with  wi-.ich  thou  haft  boldly  invented 
and  created  new  expreiTions,  the  nervous  brevity  of 
thyfiyie,  and  thy  ftriidng  picture  of  human  man- 
nei-s  and  defeats,  will,  as  the  author  cf  "  'fhe  Cha- 
raci:ers  of  Geiman  Fcets  and  Profe  V/riters  has- 
predided,  extend  the  fame  of  thy  Fragments  up- 
on Jb'hyficgnomy"  to  the  remctcft  pDrierity,  as  ore 
of  the  fm?al  number  of  German  originals  which  do 
honor  to  the  genius  of  the  age.  No  perlbn  will  then 
think  that  Lavater,  a  genius  who  has  developed 
F.ew  truths,  and  created  for  himfeif  fo  rich  a  Ian- 
.guage,  beheved  in  the  juggles  cf  Gefner. 

Such  is  the  glory  which  attends  the  works  of 
^reat  and  excellent  writers-  Th«  liie  after  deaths 


Tfie  Influence  of  Mtude.  t^T 

which  Cicero  feemed  to  lupe  fcr  with  fo  much  en-- 
I  thuliarm,will  arrive— the  apprcbaticn  alio  whichLa- 
I  vater  prediclc^d,  his  wcrk  on  Phyficgnomy  will  re- 
ceive, DotwithflaGdiiig  all  thole  injuries  that  have 
been  heiped  upon  it  both  in  SwiJJerland  and  in  Ger-^ 
imny*  But  if  Cicero  had  been  cnly  ii  Confiil^  and 
Lavater  oiily  a  Ihavrtv.atv.rgus ^  litilc  of  either  the 
one  or  tiie  other  wouid  be  reccrded  in  the  archives 
of  Time,  which  fwaliov/s  lap  the  comrnon  cl^ai-a driers' 
of  life,  and  only  preferves  thci^  names  for  eternity 
which  are  worthy  of  everlafling  fame. 

The  inveclives  of  the  vulgar,  the  indignatijii 
of  the  critics^  ar^r  wreaked  in  vain  againlt  thefe  ce- 
lebrated names,  ajad  atrainf!:  all  thole  who  may  be 
tempted  to  imitate  them.  "  Why,*'  fays  each  of 
them  to  the  laughing  1:1  ckhead,  "  would  you  ex« 
pound  the  mean.ng  of  all  that  I  write,  fiace  my  fi- 
ceil  lirokes,  gl?.nci::g  through  your  mind,  produce 
only  fuca  frigid  ideas  ?  Who  are  you  ?  By  what  ti= 
tie  do  you  claim  to  be  keeper  of  ihc  archives  of 
folly,  ai^d  arbiter  or  tlie  public  tai^e  ? — W.iere  are 
the  wvrks  by  v/hich  you  are  diiSinguifhed  ?  When 
and  v/here  have  you  Deen  armoi::nced  to  the  world  ? 
How  many  fuperior  characters  do  y;u  reckon 
among  the  number  of  your  friends  ?  What  diibnt 
country  is  conicious  U^iat  fuch  a  }rau  cx--fts  I  Why 
do  you  continually  preach  your  ml  admirari?  Why 
do  you  Itrive  to  depreciate  ever\^  thing  that  is  p:ood, 
great  and  fublime,  unleis  it  be  from  a  fenfecfyoux 
own  littleners  and  poverty^  ?  Do  ^vxu  feek  the  :?p^ 
probation  of  the  weak  and  giddy  multitude,  be- 
cauf^  no  ore  elfe  efreerns  you  1  If  37'cu  defpife  a  fair 
and  laliing  fame,  becaufa  you  can  d6  nothisg  that 
is  v/orthy  of  honeft  pr aife,  the  nam.s  yeu  endeavor 
to  ridicule  fhali  be  remembered  wLen  3'-Gur3  v;ill  be 
forgot/' 


Thaumaturgat— one  who  works  miracles ;  a  title  given  by  the 
to  th!j(€  of  their  laiac^  whasvcrs  fuppclei  to  ^^crk  rniracies.— 


1^2  The  Influence  of  Solitude . 

Tlie  defire  of  glory  is  equally  naturrJ  and  al- 
lowable in  men  even  of  little  fenle  ?.nd  judgment ; 
biTC'it  is  net  from  the  opinions  of  fuch  chara<^ers 
th'jt  Vv^riters  expect  fi-me.  It  is  from  reile^ins;  and 
impartial  minds ;  from  the  approbation  of  thofe  vir- 
tuous and  private  characlers  for  whom  alcne  they 
withdraw  from,  the  multitude,  and  whole  bofoms 
open  Vv  illingly  to  a  writer,  when  they  obferve  the 
c^Filidence  with  wiiich  he  defires  to  dif  lofe  his 
fer.tim.ents ;  it  is  to  obtain  the  approbation  of  fuch 
perlbns  alone  that  writers  feek  tr.e  (hides  of  Soli- 
tude. 

After  thofe  who  fcribble  their  names  on  walls 
and  on  panes  of  glais,  no  chviracler  appears  to  ms 
leis  formed  to  glory,  than  the  man  who  writes  fole- 
]y  for  the  place  \n  which  he  dwells.  He  v/ho,  with- 
out being  a  member  of  any  academy  or  literary 
club,  fejiis  for  lame  among  his  fellow-citizens,  is  a 
foci  v;ho  fows  his  feed  upon  a  reck.  They  may 
perhaps  pardon  icmething  that  is  good,  butno'.hing 
vhat  is  fevere,  great  or  free.  To  the  prejudiced 
multituc'e.  therefore,  he  muvL  learn  to  be  difcreetly 
filent ;  for  openly  to  avow  fentimems  th?.t  v/culd 
do  honor  to  i:is  charader,  or  by  which  he  might 
acquire  the  praifes  of  other  men,  is  only  to  exaf- 
perate  againfc  himfelf  all  tiicfe  amongft  whom  he 
lives. 

But  a  vrrit  :r  of  true  taile  and  found  judgment 
is  conici-  us  that  in:p:iriial  and  rational  minds, 
throughout  the  univerie,  adept  other  principles  in 
appreciating  the  merit  of  a  good  work,  than  thofe 
which  i'afiuence  the  judgm.ent  of  his  fellovz-citizens. 
True  critics  inquire,  "  Dees  ihe  work  relate  to  the 
interefcs  of  mankind  ?  Is  its  object  uieful,  audits 
end  moral  ?  Will  it  inform  the  underuanding  and 
amend  the  heart  ?  Is  it  wrirtea  with  freedom  and 
impartiality?  Does  it  bear  the  marks  of  honefty 
and  lincerity  ?  Docs  it  attempt  to  ridicule  any  thing 
that  is  good  or  gr^at  ?  D.:es  z  munly  fcyle  of  think- 


The  Infuence  of  Solitude,  .153 

iiig  predominate  ?  Does  rerXon,  wit,  humor  and 
,,  pieaiUiitry  pl-evail  in  it?  Does  it  contain  new  and 
uieful  truths  ?  If  it  infpires  noble  fentiments  and 
generous  refoiutions,  cur  judgment  is  fixed:  the 
work  is  gooJ,  and  the  author  a  niafter  of  the  fd- 
e::ce." 

In  the  or.Unary  commerce  of  the  world,  in  that 
intercourfe  of  fiatter^'  and  falfehood  where  every 
one  deceives  and  is  deceived  ;  where  all  appear  un- 
der a  borrowed  form,  profefs  friendfh"ps  Wwichthey 
do  not  feel,  and  beftow  praifes  only  that  they  may 
receive  ihem  back  in  return  ;  men  bov/  the  lowefc 
to  him  whom  they  defpife  the  mofu,  and  difiinguifh 
evi.ry  filly  woman  whom  they  meet  by  the  title  of 
"  Tour  Grace  But  hs  who  lives  retired  from  the 
circle  of  illufion  expecls  no  compliments  from  o't- 
ers,  norbeftows  thecn  but  vvhere  they  are  defcrved. 
A  thoufand  of  the  infidious  grimaces  with  which 
we  are  honored  in  public  life,  are  nothing  to  the 
fv/eet  converle  of  private  friend  (hip,  which  infpires 
us  with  a  noble  boldnefs,  renders  us  infenfible  to 
all  the  cpprefiions  of  the  world,  points  out  the  road 
to  true  honor,  and  accompanies  us  cn  cur  way  to 
attain  it. 

Of  what  value  are  all  the  babblings  and  vain 
boaltings  of  fcciety  to  that  dcmeSic  felicity  which 
we  experience  in  th.e  company  and  coLverrarion  of 
an  amiable  woman,  whofe  charms  awaken  ail  the 
dormant  faculties  of  the  foul,  and  infpire  the  mind 
with  finer  energies  than  all  our  own  exertions  could 
attain ;  v/ho  in  the  execution  of  our  enterprizes 
prompts  us  by  her  :£i(tance,  and  encourages  us  by 
her  approbation,  to  furmcunt  every  difficulty  ;  who 
impreflTS  us  with  the  great nefs  ef  her  ideas'and  the 
fubiimity  of  her  fentiments ;  who  weighs  and  exa^ 
I  mines  with  judicious  penetration  cur  dioughts,  cur 
actions,  cur  whole  charader ;  who  obfeiTcs  all  ouir 


A  title  given  ia  Germany  t9  perfons  a*  iuali' 


3  /4  The  Licence  of  Solitude. 

foibl  ?3  warn<:  u?  w'th  fincerity  of  t'<eir  ccnfequen- 
c^^^-  r.^.^  refcrnis  with  geti'len  -fs  nnd  afFecPtion; 
V.  ;  L  ,:  ■  -  tier  r  -  iiin-iunication  c  f     her  thcnights 

.  u'.erva  irns,  ccnvcvs  new  inftruclion  to  our 
minds,  and  by  p^iiring  all  tha  warm  and  generous 
feelings,  of  her  hrart  into  our  bofoiTis,  iuiira-^tes 
inceflantly  to  the  .xercife  rf  every  virtue,  a-idcom- 
pler.  s  the  pohr:  :d  perfection  of  our  character  by 
the  f:ft  ^iiurenn?a!3  of  Live  and  the  delightful  con- 
^cord  of  i  er  leniimrnts-. 

In  fuch  an  intercourfe,  all  that  is  virtuous  and 
noble  in  hum  in  n-tur^  is  j^reierved  within  the 
breaiT,  and  evrry  evil  prop^nnty  dies  away*  I'he 
multitude  fee  us  ?-S  we  cughr  to  be  in  public,  and 
not  as  v/e  are  in  Sci'tude  ;  for  in  the  v/orld  we  al- 
■ways  turn  the  imo..th  iurface  cutwarJs,  and  care- 
■faliy  concci:!  all  the  fharp  angles  of  our  characlers  ; 
by  which  means  we  contrive  to  paf?  without  doing 
hurt  to  any  perfcn,  and  men  find  pleafure  in  our 
comp-.^ny.'^ 

But  we  are  v'ewed  with  different  eyes  by  our 
felbw-citizens  and  by  ccteniporary  writers.  By 
the  latter,  cur  deftfts  as  well  as  our  good  qualities 
are  eaiily  difcernible  in  cur  writings,  which,  if  we 
exprefs  one  fenriment  with  fmcerity,  often  become 
the  itrcngeil  evi  .-i^.erxes  againii.us.  This  idea,  how- 
ever, is  Gcnfcla^ory  to  the  feelings  of  our  dear  coun- 
irym-n,  to  v/hofs  ears  perhaps  the  praifes  v/e  re- 
ceive may  reach,  ard  who  are  obhged  to  admit  the 
mortifying  ide:^  that  there  are  people  in  the  v/orll 
who  h  dd  us  in  f:me  eiffeem.  The  human  charac- 
ter, it  is  true,  frequently  exhibits  a  fmgular  mnxture 
of  virtue  and  vice,  of  itrength  and  weaknefs  ;  and 
v/hy  fhould  we  conceal  it  ?  Our  foibles  follow  all 
that  is  terreitrial  in  our  nature  to  the  tomb,  and 


*  "  Le  I'/Ijrerul  c^nftitutes  the  higheft  degree  of  merit  j  and  to 
I've  in  peace.,  '.se  ought  ty  take  great  care  that  the  other  fide  of  oiir 
characters  fn-juid  be  j-e/c  ved,"  laid  a  great  man  to  me  j  one  of  tilC 
uea;eft  a»ivi  inoii  reii:cctaols  aaior^^  my  friends  in  Germany, 


^he  Influence  cf  Solnude*  15^ 

lie  burie:]  with  thr  h  Ay  by  w:  ich  they  were  pro- 
duced. The  nobler  part,  if  we  hive  p.-rf -^rmed 
any  Work  worthy  of^exinenc?,  furvives  ;  and  our 
wriiiogs  are  the  beft  v/ealth  we  biive  behind  us 
whe!i  vre  die. 

But,  exclufive  of  this  enthuO^liTi,  SoUtude  af. 
fords  a  pie  Jure  to  an  anther  of  whic"  no  one  can 
deprive  1  irn,  and  whic/;  far  exceeds  all  the  honorr* 
of  tiie  w  .rid.  Ke  not  oaly  an'  icipates  ihe  effect 
his  work  will  produce,  but  wirJe  it  advances  to- 
wards completion,  feel^,  the  drlicicus  erjoymeot  of 
thofe  hours  of  f^renity  and  compofure  vvhich  his 
labors  pn  cure. 

\Vhat  plr^afure  flows  through  the  irind  cf  an 
eflaldifhed  writer,  from  the  uninterrupted  atten'ion 
£nd  the  glowing  e.nhufr'.fm  whiv-^h  accornpa:ues  it ! 
8orrov/s  fly  f  rom  this  elegant  occupation,  and  mis- 
fortunes are  forgot.  On  !  I  would  not  exc'^ange 
one  fi-^gle  hour  of  fuch,p'^rfed;  trimquilhty  for  all 
thcfe  flattering  iUufions  of  eternal  fame  with  which 
the  mini  of  Tiilly  was  f:>  inciflimtly  into:ccated. 

S  ditude,  in  the  midft  of  continuil  fuff  rin:-*?, 
is  an  enjoyment  v/h'ch  net  O-Iy  ration.dly  c3nne6^o 
the  foul  with  the  prr.fent  moment,  but  renders  it 
fu-ceptible  of  every  good  impreffion,  and  raifes  it  to 
felicity.  The  fccret  pieafure  cf  having  produced  at 
leail  ibmething,  is  u.:iknown  to  men  of  vigororis 
conllitutiocs ;  for  they  coiiride  in  the  itrength  of 
their  powers.  But  to  a  writer  afliicfed  by  illh^al  h, 
a  diluculty  furmounted,  an  h?ppy  moment  feized,  a 
pr:pofiticn  elucidated,  a  f=ntence  neatly  and  ele- 
gandy  turned,  an  harmonious  period,  or  an  happy 
expr^flion,  are  ftlutary  a'ld  healmg  bahr.s,  counter- 
p',.ifo!i3  to  molanchcly,  the  mofl:  precious  adva?ua- 
ges  of  SoHiude,  and  infi  litely  f-iperior  to  thcfe 
dreams,  thofe  prefentiments  of  houor  and  gl:^ry  after 
dea.h.  Oh!  v/ho  would  not  willinglv  rencurce, 
fcr  one  of  thefe  enjoyments,  that  eiJthAin  dbi  s gainst' 
whicii  reafoii  oppc^f^s  fc  uiauy  pov/erfui  cbje^cioB'si 


1^6  The  liijlucnce  of  Solitude- 

and  which  to  me  does  not  appear  quite  fatlsfaclon-, 
except  when  we  do  not  altogether  enjoy  our  ufual 
prefence  of  mind. 

To  enjoy  himfelf  without  being  dependent  on 
the  aid  of  others,  to  devote  to  employments  not 
perhaps  altogether  ufelefs  thcfe  hours  which  fbrrow 
and  chagrin  would  ctherwife  ueal  from  the  fum  of 
life,  is  the  great  advantage  of  an  author  ;  and  with 
this  advantage  alone  I  am  perfe£dy  content.  And 
who  is  there  that  does  cot  derive  pleafure  from  So- 
litude when  he  perceives  the  progrefs  he  is  capable 
cf  making  during  a  few  Iiours,  while  the  multitude 
roll  in  their  cajrlages  through  the  ftreet,  and  make 
every  wall  of  the  hcufe  trem.ble  to  its  foundation  ? 

The  fmgularities  cf  fome  writers  are  oftentimes 
the  effecls,  and  frequently  the  real  advantages,  of 
SQruudt\  Long  abfent  from  all  commerce  with 
tlie  v/orld,  their  difpofitions  become  lefs  inflexible 
and  compliant.  Even  he,  however,  who  has  pre- 
ferved  the  manners  of  fcciety,  is  not  fond  of  being 
obliged  to  fhew  himfelr  in  company  differently  frcm 
what  he  is ;  and  he  frizes  the  pen  from  fpcrt,  if  it 
b2  only  to  afford  a  fmgle  confolation  to  his  feel- 
lags. 

But  in  this,  perhaps,  the  world  may  fay,  that 
a  v/riter  zRs  imprcp -riy  ;  and  that  this  eafy  man- 
ner of  ent.ertainiv:g  the  reader  neither  contributes 
to  his  ph-afure  ncr  his  information.  This  Ryle  cf 
writing,  however,  has  its  merit ;  hterature  acquires 
bv  it  a  greater  degree  of  freedom  ;  it  teaches  the 
inind  to  rife  above  a  creep'ng,  fervile  train  of 
thought,  and  is  more  appropriated  to  the  neceiTities 
of  the  t  me.  If  a  nation  is  not  yet  poiTeiled  of  all 
that  its  greatefh  men  cculd  with,  (he  may  attain  it, 
if  they  are  capable  cf  extirpa^irg  ancient  prejudice?, 
if  freedom  of  fentiment  be  e::cor raged,  and  if,  in 
each  province,  fome  phibfjphical  writr-rs  fhculd  be 
found  who  will  bd  Uy  exprefs  their  op'nions.  To 
entertain  readers  i?.  in  my  cpiniop,  o:cIy  to  deliver 


The  Influcnc2  cf  Solitude.  157 

freely  la  writing  that  which  in  the  general  intercoiir- 
fes  of  f.  ciety  it  is  impcflibW  to  fiiy  either  with  fafe- 
ty  or  pohtener!^.  This  is  what  I  call  Liberty ;  an 
inefl::mable  tre  ifur  - !  which,  u-ider  a  wife  and  mo- 
derate ^(hninifiration,  every  oae  enjoys  v/ho  lives 
in  Solitude. 

In  a  treatife  upon  Style,  printed  at  IVeyjmir^  a 
gentleman  appears  very  ftrongly  to  oppofe  this  new 
marner  of  writing.  In  honor  of  the  Solitude  and 
Liberty  by  which  it  was  prot\iced,  I  ihould  h.ive 
many  things  to  fay  to  him.,  although  I  perfectly  co- 
incide with  him  upon  many  points.^  He  wiihes  one 
general  rule  to  be  adopted  with  refprcl  to  ftyle,  and 
1  contend  for  that  freedom  in  literary  compolitions 
which  will  allow  of  ftyla  according  to  every  man's 
fimcy  and  humor.  He  thirks  that  a  writer  fhould 
always  have  a  model  before  him  ;  I  think  that  eve- 
ry writer  is  his  own  model.  He  wifhes  writers  to 
follow  the  flyle  of  others ;  I  thir.k  that  writers 
fiiould,  as  much  as  it  is  p  jffible,  let  every  thing  be 
their  own  ;  not  th^  Ityle  alone,  but  every  other 
property  belonging  to  compolition.  He  is  unwil- 
ling that  the  writer  fnould  he  difcoveral  le  in  the 
work ;  though  it  appears  to  me,  that  he  may  be 
permit  red  publicly  to  dccompcfe  the  ftate  of  his  mind, 
and  to  make  oblervatiGns  on  his  own  charadter,  for 
the  benefit  of  otlier  nien,  rather  than  to  leave  his 
body  by  will  to  a  profeilcr  of  anatv;my.  Lie  re- 
commends authjTS  to  proceed  by  regular  deps  ;  I 
hale  to  be  taught  by  others  how  I  ought  to  walk. 
He  fays,  that  it  is  the  pref  nt  faihi  ^n  with  authors 
to  difclofe  what  were  the  feehr.gs  of  their  fouls 
when  ihev  wrote  ;  I  cannot  •  Itogcther  conceal  how 
liind  m.yfelf  when  I  converfe  wit:  my  readers.  He 
appears  act  inchned  t'^at  they  ihould  conceive  them- 
felv;-^s  elone  when  they  are  writing ,  while  very  fre- 
quently I  write,  Lilly  that  .1  may  have  the  cpporiu- 
nity  cf  exprcffing  on  word  alone. 

Ihis  treutife  upon  the  fubjeft  of  fiyle.  hov/ev^ 
(XiV) 


1 33  Influence  of  Bohiude, 

er,  contains  in  g-eneral  a  true  and  judicicAis  criti- 
cilm ;  and  elpf daily  towards  the  conclufion,  which 
is  filled  with  ol^fervati^n?.  equ?.lly  accurate' and  prc- 
fuund.  This  was  th^  only  paflage  through  the 
work  of  w'-  ich  I  diiappr  jved ;  for  ah  hough  the 
ramblings,  extravi^g  .nces,  and  digreflions  of  our 
heanx  ef^  rits  difpleale  me  as  much  as  they  do  this 
geriti?iiran,  i  think,  neverthekfs,  that  this' free  and 
eafy  fl  yle  of  writing/ which  can  only  be  acquired 
in  Solicude,  h?,s  already  produced  a  greater  degree 
of  liber  y  than  was  heretcfore  enjoyed  ;  and  tnat 
fhis  hberty,  erapl'^yed  witr>  t:ft2  and  difcretion, 
will  promote  the  circulation  of  n  greater  number  of 
ufcful  truths  than  there  fLiU  exifls  of  dangerous  pre- 
judices. 

The  light  of  philofophy  has  been  prevented 
from  penetrating  into  many  reccftes,  folcly  Kcaufe 
the  manners  cf  focieties,  the  voice  of  the  people, 
and  the  opinion  of  the  public,  follow  one  unifc  rm 
ftep.  Every  man  liftens  and  locks  up  to  the  ft  nti- 
ments  of  his  neighb  r,  and  no  one  dares  to  dtvrte 
from  the  crdi:;ary  mode  of  judgment.  Men  of  the 
world,  who  beft  ^know  the  art  of  appropriating  to 
themfelv^s  thn  neweft  and  moit  refined  ide'S  cf 
others,  are  «.  bliged  to  conceal  them,  and  to  follow, 
the  general  manners  of  the  3g:e.  But  w^en  authors 
begin,  from  tl^.e  r-^trep.ts  '-f  Sortude,  to  appear  be- 
fore the  pubhc  without  difinay  ;  \\hen  they  f^udy 
thf^  charad:ers  i  f  every  defc.'  iprion  of  people,  with 
their  manners  of  a£^ing^,  and  *h  ir  mrdes  of  thi:  k- 
ing  ;  when  they  cnce  d  re,  wi  h  boldnefs  and  con- 
fidence, to  def  ribe  thiog=^>  by  their  true  names, 
and  difclofeby  thf-ir  wri  i-gs,  all  thofe  truths  Which 
€very  free  and  iilxral  mind  ought  t'^>  ht  permitted 
to  difclcfe  ;  their  in'-  mcti'  n  will  circulate  gra.''u?lly 
among  ^he  pecpi  the  philofophy  of  human  life  wiii 
fpread  i^fieif  al  nxid,  every  man  w'll  dare  to  think 
■for  himfelf,  and  difiain  t  •  be  giiided  by  th^  public 
opinion*  To  eilict  thi^  riy^Iuuonj  however,  i:  is 


The  Influence  cf  Solitudi.-  i-^r 

n^ceflary  that  our  writers  fhould  be  acqmiiited 
with  a  dillereut  region  than  merely  that  of  the  Uni- 
▼erfity,  or  even  of  their  own  provincial  town  : 
their  minds  muft  be  formed  by  an  interc^urfr  with 
men  cf  every  flue  and  every  nation  :  ti.ey  mu^t 
neither  the  grent,  iicr  difpif:  the  inferi-jr  claff- 
es  of  m.^r.kind  ;  and  they  muft  learn  to  retire  oc- 
cafiODaily  from  tiiis  interccurfe  with  tlie  world  to 
long  ar.d  uninierrupted  S.4i'ude  ;  to  renounce  the 
fedu£tio:is  of  phafure,  to  free  theTifelves  fr^m  the' 
ties  of  Society,  and  above  all  to  become  deaf  to  the 
pfaife  or  ceniure  of  thofe  among  whom  they  UvCj 
wien  employed  as  inducements  to  the  propagation 
of  fdlfchDod  or  the  fupprefTioa  of  truth. 

The  Germans  felt  an  Helvetic  fe verity  in  th^ 
taileand  liyh  of  t'^ofe  works  which  I  formerly 
wrote,  and  this  feverity  was  without  doubt  the  ccn- 
fequence  of  my  folitary  life.  I'he  Spe^latcr  of 
Thuringla  for  four  years  fuccefiively  defendt?d  ma 
witli  equal  vivacity  and  (kill  againil  the  very  heavy 
reproaches,  that  I  was  a  peevifh,  hypDcritical  phil* 
olopher,  whj  was  never  phafed  with  nny  produc- 
tion, and  always  viewed  ihe  v/oni  fij!e  of  things; 
that  nothing  was  facred  from  the  keennefs  of  my 
criticifm,  and  the  feverity  of  my  fat  ire  ;  but  that 
the  nation  was  too  modeil,  too  decent,  too  delicate, 
and  too  virtuous  to  be  entertained  by  fuch  como?- 
firicns ;  in  fliort,  that  Engliih  Writers  were  infuf- 
ferable  to  German  delicacy,  and  of  confequsnce  it 
was  impcffible  to  endure  the  Swifs. 

Bui  it  appears  to  me,  that  tl:ey  confound  the 
manners  cf  the  wcrid  with  the  ftyle  of  books, 
Harrhnefs  is  without  doubt  excluded  from  fociery 
whilft,  on  the  other  hand,  the  naked  truths  whth 
well-written  works  or  letters  from  time  to  tim^e  dif- 
clofe,  frequently  flrike  the  mind,  and  produce  an 
eftcft.  i  'dm  myfelf  extremely  chafte,'*  faid  a  p3- 
et,.  "  but. I  ackncwhdge  that  my  works  are  not," 
A  wri:er,  therefore,  may  be  civil  and  porite  in  his 


T/je  Influence  of  ^ollttide. 


perCmal  Intercoiirfe  with  mankind,  and  flill  proper- 
ly fevere  in  hi?  works.  Why  fh  uld  authors  write 
as  hey  fp^ak,  if  they  n':>ver  fpeak  as  they  think  ?  Is 
it  not  ennigh  that  wh^=n  they  mix  in  Society-^ 
they  ende  IV  r  to  pleafe  every  one ;  that  when  they 
have  once  cnterr-d  into  Society,  they  fubmit  with- 
out exception  to  whatever  tHe  laws  of  pohtenefs 
ex  h  \  give  up  whatever  is  infifled  on,  maintain  no 
opinions  unnecelTarily,  aUvays  yield  the  privilege 
of  f^Jki  to  otl  e:Sj  and  do  every  thing  as  if  tl'.ey 
were  there  only  to  hear  and  learn  r  Are  there  not, 
however,  many  beaux  efpritj  who  are  irfufterable  in 
company,  from  a  v:\in  conceit  that  their  v^rritings 
are  tha  lafl:  bed  mod.=:ls  of  elegance  and  urbanity  I 
Would  not  fuch  a  ch'.ira^ler  ad  more  wifely,  to 
ccrrecf,  in  his  conmierce  with  the  world,  the  errors 
that  may  have  efcviped  from  his  pen,  than  to  re- 
itrain  his  pen  and  never  check  his  tongue  ?  He, 
alas  !  who  in  the  circbs  of  Society  is  kind  in  his  be- 
havior and  ccmplaifant  in  his  manners  rnayfurely 
be  permitted  once  at  k?ft  to  hazard  in  his  writings 
a  bold  or  even  an  harfli  exprelTion,  and  to  inftrt 
here  and  there  a  melancholy  truth,  when  fo  many 
ethers  are  occupied  in  circulating  fprightly  falfe^ 
lioods. 

Energy  of  thought  is  banifhed  from  the  lan- 
guage of  converfati.  n.  But  if  the  freedom  v/ith 
which  an  author  exprefles  himf.  lf  in  his  writings  be 
miuiierable  in  the  intercourfe  v;lth  the  v/orld,  tl:e 
icfi:  and  meretricious  language  of  Society  would  be 
xidiculous  in  hterary  ccmpofuion.  An  author 
muft  fpeak  in  the  language  of  truth ;  in  Society  a 
iiia.i  is  in  the  conHant  habit  of  feeling  it  only,  for 
he  mufl:  impofe  a  neccHary  filence  upon  his  lips, 
'i'he  manners  of  men  are'  formed  by  intercourle 
with  the  world,  and  their  chara^l^rs  by  retiring 
into  Sohtude.  Here  they  will  f:jon  difccver  whe- 
4her  they  have  only  learned  complaifaucej  or  have 


The  Injluence  of  Sclitucfe,  1 6i 

acquired  freedcmof  thought,  firmnefs  of  expreflion, 
dignity  of  fentiment,  and  grandeur  of  flyle. 

Soliiu-^e  raifes  the  mind  to  an  high  degree  of 
elevation  and  power.  The  mm  who  has  not  courage 
enough  to  place  hiinfelf  above  the  preju^'ices  and 
fafhions  of  the  world  ;  who  dreads  the  reproach  cf 
fngularicy  ;  who  forms  and  conducts  himfelf  upon 
t\e  example  (  f  others  ;  will  certainly  never  acquire 
a  fufficient  regree  of  refolution  to  live  a  life  of  vo- 
luntary Sjlitu.'e.  It  has  been  well  obferved  that 
Solitude  is  as  indifpenfably  neceflary  to  give  a  juft, 
folid,  firm  and  forcible  tone  to  our  thoughts,  as  jl 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  to  give  them  richnefs  and 
brilliancy,  and  to  teacn  us  to  make  a  wife  and  hap- 
py application  of  them. 

The  mind  when  employe .1  in  the  purfuit  of 
noble,  inter  ^fti^g  objects,  is  cleanfed  from  thofe 
impurities  with  which  the  habits  of  indolence  ftain 
the  vacant  breaft.  The  foul,  er joying  freedom  and 
tranquillity,  feels  all  its  energies  with  luperior  force, 
and  difpiays  an  extent  of  power  which  \v?.s  before 
unknown.  The  will  fharpcus  i'.felf  in  SoHtude; 
for  as  the  facultirs  are  capable  of  greater  exertions 
in  the  bifure  it  affords,  as  we  enjoy  greater  liberty 
and  tranquillity,  as  tur  ideas  become  more  clear, 
iummous  and  extended,  as  we  fee  wi  h  greater  cer- 
tainty into  tne  c  ^nf^qucnces  cf  things,  the  mind  ex- 
a£l:^  much  more  from  itfeif  in  Solitude  than  in  the 
worl,!.  The  tr-inqu'.llity  of  Soli t.ude,  however, 
muft  not  degenerate  into  idle  eafe,  into  a  flate  of 
mental  numbnefs  or  ftupefacllon.  It  is  not  fuffi-. 
cient  for  this  purpofe  to  be  continually  gazing  out 
of  a  window  with  a  thoughtlefs  mind^  or  gravely 
walking  up  and  down  ore's  iludy  in  a  rsgged  robed^ 
chambre  and  worn-out  ilippers.  The  exterior  of 
tranquillity  gives  no  elevation  to  the  foul,  infpires 
no  r.ftivity,  except  when  we  are  well  prrfuaded  thai 
Solitu  :e  is  neceflary,  cr  feel  it  to  be  a  dcfire  of  the 
fjul.  It  is  thej^i  only  that  it  becomes  a  precious  lit- 
(XIV2) 


16"^  The  JnJlue^Kc  of  Mliuie, 

erty,  animating,  the  fame  inftant,  bcth  the  rea- 
fon  and  the  imaginatioD. 

One  of  my  illnftrious  friends  has  frequently 
p.fUiFed  ine,  that  he  never  felt  fo  ftror.g  an  mclina- 
tion  to  write  as  during  a  reviev/,  v/hen  fcrty  thou- 
fand  perfons  left  their  houfes,  and  travelled  on  foot, 
in  carriages,  and  on  horieback,  to  obferve  the  ma- 
noeuvres of  a  li  igle  oattalion.  This  friend  has  pub- 
iifhed  many  treatifes  upon  the  f  dences,  bijt  he  rev- 
er  \vr  te  a  trifle  full  of  v/it  and  gaiety  unt  1  the  day 
of  the  review.  In  enrly  youth,  I  never  felt  fo  ftrong 
SI  difpofition  to  empl  y  my  m.ind  on  ferious  fubje6ls 
as  on  6und;iy  mornings,  when,  far  retired  in  the 
country,  1  heard  the  fh;^rp  and  tinkli-jg  found  of 
the  vill^ige  btHs,  v/hile  all  my  fellow-citizens,  occu- 
pied in  their  devotions,  frizzed  and  powdered  their 
heads  to  go  to  church. 

Cop'inual  interrup'ion  deftroys  all  the  good 
eltedts  of  Sohfude.  Difturbance  prevents  the  mind 
from  collectii^:g  i  s  idea?.  This  is  the  reafon  why 
an  - ilahlilhment  frequtnrly  takes  away  m^ore  ad- 
'Van*:agcs  than  it  brings.  In  the  world,  every  psrfon 
is  oblig-^d  to  attend  to  the  duties  of  his  particular 
fiation,  and  muft  perform  what  they  exacl  frora 
liim  ;  but  in  Solitude  a  man  may  be  jufl:  what  he 
'wifiies  and  what  he  is.  If,  therefore,  a  judicious 
phiiofopner  or  a  man  of  genius  do  not  exa(^Iy  fcl- 
iow  the  received  ufages  of  his  ftation,  they  fay  of 
Jiim,  "  This  is  a  fool ;  he  only  knows  how  to  write 
books  ;  "  or  perhaps,  "  His  writings  are  good,  but 
as  for  hlrnfelf,  he  is  an  afs.'' 

The  mind  of  a  folitary  man  attacks  prejudice 
and  error  v/ith  as  much  vigor  and  courage  as  an 
athletic  champion  meets  his  adverfary.  Repeated 
examinations  bring  the  obje^ls  of  our  attention 
mere  near  ;  we  behold  their  properties  with  great- 
er certainty,  and  feel  more  ftrongly  that  which  we 
have  feen.  If  the  foul  enter  entirely  into  itfeif,  it 
then  becomes  more  eafy  to  work  with  efficacy  oa 


The  InJIucnce  tf  Solitude.  t^'t^ 

external  objects.  A  man  of  a  refle61ing  and  Intre- 
pi '  inind,  who  retire?  withh  his  own  Ix/lbm,  feizcs 
tru  h  wherever  he  dilcovers  her,  and  r.^g-'Tds  with 
the  tranquil  fmileof  pity  thofewho  tnink  themfelves 
authorifed  to  fpeak  of  her  with  contemp^  ;  he  hears, 
without  bein;^  cifconcerted,  the  inve-flives  which 
envy  and  prejudice  throw  cut  againft  him  ;  f:.r  he 
p.Tceives  a  weak  raultituJe  making  hue  and  cry 
the  moment  he  opens  his  hand  and  unbofes  one  of 
the  truths  w'-  ich  it  contains. 

Solitude  alf-^rd'^  u?  aa  opportunity  to  diminifh 
the  number  of  our  pailions:  for  out  of  a  multipli- 
city of  trifling  inclinat  ons  fne  forms  one  great  de- 
fire.  It  is  certainly  pcilible  thit  S'^Uiuda  may  pro- 
duce dangerous  effecls  upon  the  pailions,  but,  Pro- 
viien-'e  be  thanked  1  it  may  alfo  produce  the  molt 
falutary  elFetls.  if  it  be  capable  cf  dilordering  the 
mind,  it  is  alfo  capable  of  elfcclirg  the  cure.  It 
draws  out  and  fepr.rates  all  the  v..rious  prcpenfities 
of  the  human  heart :  but  it  colhcts  and  re-unites 
them  ?11  into  one.  Yes,  in  SoUtuie  we  feel  and 
learn  not  only  the  nature  but  the  exrent  and  infl-u- 
ence  of  all  the  pailions,  w'hich  rife  up  againfl  us  like 
angry  waves,  and  endeavor  to  overwhelm  us  in  the 
a  by  fs,  until  Pnilof-^phy  fi'es  to  our  aid  and  divides 
their  force.  If  we  do  not  yield  an  tafy  vi(^  jry,  by 
negle£ling  all  oppofition  to  their  attacks.  Virtue  ana 
Self-denial  bring  gigantic  powers  to  our  alFiftance 
that  will  "  melt  the  rocks  and  bend  the  knotted 
oak.'*  In  fnurt,  every  thing^  is  pcffible  to  Virtus 
and  Refolution,  tiie  inftrat  we  learn  that  one  pal- 
lion  is  only  to  be  conquered  by  another. 

The  mind  feels  itielf  proudly  dignified  by  that 
greatnefs  of  foul  which  v/e  acquire  by  a  commerce 
y/ith  ourfclves,  and,  difdaini^g  every  ignoble  ob- 
j  ift,  v/ithdi-aws  itfelf  on  every  fide  from  corrupt 
Soc:ety.  A  virtuous  mnnd  obferves  the  fons  of 
wcrldiy  plcafure  precipitate  themfelves  into  fcenes 
cf  riot  aud  debauchery  v/iihcut  being  fiduced,  la 


1 64 


7hs  hjliience  of  Solitude, 


vain  is  it  cir^ub.ted  on  every  fide,  that  debauchery- 
is  the  earlie"  pr  penfity  cf  men,  efpeci-ally  of  a 
ycung  ma  1  who  vvifhes  to  know  life  ;  in  vain  is  it 
reprefented  as  necelfary  to  form  connexions  with 
giris  of  the  ^endereft  youth,  as  it  is  to  eat  and  fleep : 
no,  the  noble  mind  feels  and  fees  that  debauchery 
readers  youth  unmanly,  infenfible  to  the  charms  of 
virtue,  and  callous  ro  the  principles  of  honelly ; 
that  it  dellroys  all  refoluti  n,  infpires  timidity  and 
pufillanimity  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and  prevents 
them  from  undtrtaking  any  great  and  glorious  en- 
lerprize  ;  that  by  the  indulgence  of  Hbertinifm^  ths 
^ener.  us  warmth  a:  d  line  enthufiafm  of  the  foul, 
its  noble  fondnefs  for  ihe  fublime  and  beautiful — 
all  its  powers,  are  loft.  He  therefore,  who  retains 
a  wlfh  to  appear  great  and  honorable  in  the  world, 
rauft  renounce  for  ever  the  habits  of  indolence  and 
luxury.  The  n^.oment  he  ceafes  to  injure  his  facul- 
ties  by  debauchery,  and  difcontinues  his  :ittempts 
to  renovate  them  by  an  excefs  of  wine  and  luxuri^ 
ous  living,  he  will  no  lon^^er  feel  it  neceffary  fre- 
queady  to  take  the  air,  Eor  to  confume  the  whele 
day  on  horfe-back. 

All  men  without  exception  have  fomething 
continunlly  ro  k-arn.  Whatever  may  be  the  diflin- 
guiQie:  raiik  which  they  h  :ld  in  Society,  they  can 
n  ver  be  truly  great  but  by  their  perfonal  merit. 
I'he  m  )re  the  faculties  cf  the  mind  are  exercifed  in 
the  tranquillity  of  retirem.ent,  the  more  confpicuous 
they  appear  \  and  ihculd  the  pleafures  cf  debauch- 
ery be  the  ruling  p:;fnon,  O  young  man  t  leara 
that  nothing  will  fo  eafiiy  fubdue  it  as  an  increaf- 
ing  emulation  in  great  and  virtuous  addons,  an  ha- 
tred of  idlenefs  and  frivolity,  the  iiuiy  of  the  fci- 
ences,  a  frequent  communion  with  thy  own  heart, 
and  that  high  and  dignified  fp'rit  which  viev/s  with 
difd.'in  every  thing  tl.at  is  vile  and  contemptible. 

This  generous  pride  difcovers  itfelf  with  digni- 
ty and  greatneii?  ia  the  retreats  of  Soiitude,  where 


Tk  hjlucnce  of  Soiitucfe.  %6'; 

the  p'^ffion  for  every  fublime  o'-jecl^  cprrates  with 
greater  fn^dom  r ran  in  any  other  Ipuation.  The 
fame  palfnn  whic carried  Alexander  into  Jftd^ 
confi  ed  Diogenes  to  his  tub,  Il  rarjitus  qnitted 
the  I'-^rone  to  devote  himicif  to  tl\e  fearch  of  truth. 
He  whawifhes  to  render  his  iludies  iifeful  to  man- 
kind, muft  firfl:  have  made  his  obfervations  in  the 
worl^  -v^ith  ut  dwelling  in  it  too  long  or  quitting 
it  with  regret*  The  w  rid  enervates  the^  mind 
and  deftroys  its  vigor.  Carfar  in  the  courfe  of  a 
fcw  days  tore  himf  If  from  Cier;patraj  snd  became 
the  m after  of  the  empire  ;  but  Antony  took  her  as 
his  rvflreft,  was  for  ever  in  h^r  arms,  and  by  his 
efFemin-Ky  kfl  both  his  life  and  the  world.  ^ 

SoKtmie,  \i  is  true^  infpires  the  fcul  with  high 
Jiiid  exalted  notions,  which  are  incompatible  wi'tM 
the  tr  -nf  i&"^rs  of  commicn  life.  Jbut  a  lively^  ar'» 
dei:t  palTio  "I  for  whatever  is  great,  points  out  to  the 
fcii^ary  m.an  the  p  fTible  mea^s  of  fuppcrticg  him- 
felf  on  heights  which  would  turn  the  heac's  of 
worldly-minded  mar.  The  circumflances  which 
accompany  Solitude  extend  the  faculties  of  the 
mind,  influence  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  place 
the  man  fo  much  above  the  ievd  of  humauity,  that 
he  feels  hiinfelf  imm.ortal.  To  cbferve  upon  the 
life  of  a  m;m  of  the  world,  we  fhould  fay,  that  each 
day  ought  to  be  the  laft  of  his  exigence.  The  plea- 
fures  of  Solitude  make  ample  compenfation  for  eve- 
ry privation.,  while  the  worl  -ily-minded  man  thinks 
that  all  liappinets  is  at  an  end  if  he  hiippens  to  mils 
a  favorite  ciiverfion,  to  be  depriv:^d  of  at^endirg  his. 
club,  oris  difappointed  in  feeing  the cele^-rated  con- 
jurer,  the  new  boxer,  or  the  v/ild  beafts  juft  arrived 
from  a  flrange  land,  which  the  hand-bills  cf  the  day 
have  announced. 

I  never  recoiled:  without  feeling  the  warnieil: 
emotions  that  paff^ge  where  Plutarch  fiys,  "  Hive 
entirely  upon  hiiiory,  and  while  I  contemplate  the 
pictures  it  prefents  tg  my  viev/,  my  mind  erjoys  a 


1^6  Th^  Influence  of  Solitude. 

rich  repair  fr-m  tl:e  reprefentat-ion  of  great  and  vir- 
tuous characters,  if  the  u6lions  men,  whi-^h  I 
muft  necell;irily  look  into,  produce  f  me  infl^inces 
of  vice,  corruption  and  difhoneftv,  }  endeav'^r^  ne- 
vertneiefs,  remove  the  imprc£ion,  or  to  defeat 
its  eitcct.  My  mind  withdraws  itfelf  from  (he 
fce'^e,  and,  free  f  rom  '  Vcry  ignoble  palTion,  I  at- 
tach inyfelf  to  thcfe  high,  examples  of  vir  ue  which 
are  fo  agreeable  and  ia:iGfV.£tory,  and  which  accord 
io  compkiely  wit-,  the  genuine  fedings  of  cur  na^ 
tore." 

The  foul,  attr.ched  by  Solitude  to  thefe  ftib- 
lime  images,  forgets  every  cbjcdl  th  it  would  attrad 
it  towards  the  e::rt:i,  mounts  as  it  pr  rceeds,  and 
cafts  the  eye  of  difdain  on  tncfe  links  which  would 
chain  it  to  the  w  "rid,  and  tend  to  ititcrcept  or  weafo- 
en  its  flight  .  At  this  height  the  faculties  and  incli- 
nations devel'  :pe  themfelves.  Every  raim  is  per- 
haps cap:i'  ie  of  cicin,^  much  more  than  he  perfcrms; 
and  for  this  reafon  it  is  wife  and  glorious  to  attempt 
every  achievement  which  does  not  appe^.r  p:  yficrl- 
iy  im.p  flible.  How  many  dormant  ideas  may  be 
awakened  !  and  then,  what  a  variety  of  early  im- 
preffions  which  were  feemingly  forgot,  revive,  and 
preffut  themielves  to  our  pens !  We  may  always 
accomplifh  much  m.ore  than  we  conceive,  provided 
pafTion  facs  the  fire  which  imagination  has  ligiited ; 
for  Hfe  only  appears  infuppDrtable,  when  it  is  no 
longer  animated  by  the  foft  afiecLions  of  the  heart. 

A  fl:ate  of  exiftence  without  paili^n*  is,  in  So- 
litude as  well  as  in  every  other  fituation  of  life,  the 
death  cf  ti.e  ibul.  Difeaie  and  long-fuffering,  after 
I  ceafed  to  breathe  my  native  air,  occafmnally  re- 
duced me,. during  many  years,  to  this  horrible'con- 


*  **  The  force  of  the  paflions,"  fays  a  great  philofopher,  **caa 
alone  counterbalance  in  the  human  mind  the  ffFcfts  of  indolence  and 
ina(flivity,  fteal  us  from  that  repofe  and  ftupidity  towards  which  we 
inceflantly  gravitate,  and  at  length  endow  the  mind  with  that  ccBti- 
nuity  of  attention  to  which  fcpwiorlty  0/  taleat  is  attached." 


'Sre  Influtnce  of  Sdiiude»  i6f 

dlilon.  While  t.'rfe  am  ^cg'":  w'-^^m  I  I'ved,  and 
w;^o  were  igaorant  cf  my  re.l  firuatio;',  thcczht 
that  I  was  gry,  and  -xpccft  d  every  fnoment  that 
I  fli.vuld  feizc  th.^  la-^ce  ?.nd  (h-  -Id,  l  pafled  quietly 
on  my  way,  and  ref»  ned  myfelf  wi<h  care  and  cor- 
dhlity  to  the  ben  fice^:t  cripl  ^ymeats  of  my  pro- 
felliDD.  W/.ile  the  rage  agaiaft  me  was  general,  I 
rcm.dnjrd  perft<5lly  mlcn^l'.^le,  ar.d  preferved  an  in- 
violable llience.  I  he  hngUv^rs  of  ficknefs,  the  tor- 
tures rf  a  wounded  heart,  t^  e  rpprciTion  of  d:^mef- 
tlc  misfortunes,^  had  v^nqu'fhed  my  ini.id,  and  ren- 
dered it  infcnllole  to  every  ctner  concern.  My 
brr.ai  concinned  during  feveral  years  as  obdurate  as 
marble  :  i  paiTe :  mar.y  hours  day  after  day  without 
a  tho'  ght :  i  freqaently  uttered  the  direcl  contrary 
to  what  1  mta  :r :  I  c.uid  fcarcely  take  any  nou- 
rifnment :  I  c^uld  derive  no  fupp^rt  from  that 
which  nrengthe  :s  others :  I  expected  every  ilcp  I 
tck,  to  fall  to  ^he  grounJi ;  and  I  fuffered  all  the 
puaifhmtnts  of  Hell,  whenever  i  fat  down  with  an 
intennon  to  write.  Tre  w^rld  contained  noth'nja; 
that  could  interefl  m.e,  except  only  the  f-.cret  objccl 
of  my  chagrin,  which  1  kept  cljlliy  locked  withia 
my  bleeding  hrart. 

Tlie  padi.ns  hr.ve  DO  r:<-ftenoe  until  the  mo- 
ment the  corpore-.  1  craans  beco:iie  c?.pable  cf  in- 
dulgi  g  th  fe  .^rpclitl^n?  which  are  previoufly  plant- 
ed in  t  e  breift.  Ihe  foul,  therefor-,  which  u^'ht 
to  be  k^pt  \  \  a  ftate  cf  c  nf.a^t  exen  ife,  rding  on- 
ly by  mie?ns  of  tb-fe  o'gaas,  it  is  necefT^rv  that 
tiieir  operations  fhculd  net  be  o'^^ftrucled  j  fcr  the 
foul,  b:  th  in  the  tranquillity  cf  it)- htude  and  \\\  the 
hurry  «  f  the  world,  can  never  lecrmiC  active  or  en- 
terprizi.^g,  w  ile  it  is  imped v^d  by  t::- f-  fabal '-rn 
agents.  Why  is  it  n.  t  idway?  ii:  c-ur  p  wer  live 
in  Solitude,  nd  ax^rdi^g  to  cnrincl;  a'i^  ^,  lince 
it  is  certain  tirat  ^.oiitude  affords  h;pp'nef-  t  the 
heart  in  every  period  of  cur  hv  -s,  ai  d  learns  the 
mind  to  tae  ferdle  fources  of  every  grt  at  Cv^nceptioi;  ? 


1 68  Tf^e  Iriflimu  6f  Solitud4. 

How  p? iTi  -nately  fond  cf  S  litude  would  every  no- 
ble-nrt^ded  vouih  ^-ecome,  if  he  wer^  capable  cF 
perceivi--g  the  vanfty  f  grand  i'.-as.,  fu'  lime  fen- 
liments,  and  pr.-f^uud  kn  wle  'ge^  wh'ch  he  might 
there  acquire  in  the  earlie!^  pe  l  )ds  of  his  infancy  ! 
A  wif^  rid  ag?  finds  its  hnppiell  day<^.  in  the  r  nreats 
cf  Solitude.  Th!^  mm  '  there  thinks  with  greater 
dignity  than  in  the  world.  In  the  tranquillity  cf  re- 
tire >'eni,  we  e  hew  every  thing;  nught  to  be  roQ- 
ducled  ;  while  in  f  xiety,  we  only  fee  how  things 
lire  carried  (  n.  Uninterrupted  reikftioa  and  pro- 
fcur.d  th  ugkt  inCp're  tl^e  rreated  works  which  the 
hum-^n  mind  is  capable  of  producing;  while  in  fo- 
ciety  the  intell'^dual  Ipirit  evAporares  by  its  contin- 
ual aittndcn  to  trifling  ol  je^ls.  Solitude,  on  the 
contrary,  mufV  pofTefs  a  v>^ry  powerful  charm,  fmce 
fo  many  men  forget  in  retirement  all  the  cares  of 
life,  and  leari.  to  d  fb'fe  every  thirg  that  belongs  to 
earih  ;  they  fufle!-  their  lands  to  lie  fallow,  abaSdon 
their  crops  to  weeds,  or  leave  them  a  prey  to  the 
beafrs  of  the  field. 

Whsn  the  iriind  is  nll-^d  with  an  enthufrafm  fcr 
great  achiev=me':ts,  it  Lfrs,  i-;  general,  all  confider- 
ati -n  f^r  tr?fii'  g  ob^ecis.  This  is  the  reafon  why, 
in  cond ailing  litl-;  c:ncerns,  common  feijf^*  is 
much  more  uf^ful  than  genius.  The  ordinary  cc- 
cupai ions  of  life  de'lroy  the  enf  ufr.Tm  of  genius, 
which  nothing  will  To  efte^lually  re'iore  as  Solitude, 
leifnre  :  nd  liberty,  d  hs  ph:l  /fop  ic  cbfrrver  and 
profound  wr.'er,  t/.erefTe,  h.  ve  no  other  reiburce, 
wh  n  they  nre  furr-uuded  and  encumbereJ  by  a 
midtipliritv  of  affa'-rs.  Mifunderitood  and  ridi'cu- 
kd,  their  fjuls  firkea  und'^r  ihe  general  prefliare, 
and  become  almi  xl  exiincl ;  fcr  what  ii'  ducement 


*  *'  A  man  of  Commoj:  i-.^WiC,"  \  Hclvttius,  "  Is  a  man  In 
vhofe  cha'adter  indoie-ice  prs.i  )-,r.';?iave  .  Me  is  not  endowed  with 
that  adivity  of  fnul  which,  in  hif^h  ftatiojis,  leads  great  minds  to  dif- 
cover  nrvv  Iprings  by  wliich  they  rr.-i)  let  the  worid  in  mction,  or  to 
fow  thole  feeds  from  the  ^lovvtii  oi  which  ihcy  are  enabled  to  produce 
future  events,'* 


The  Infucnce  of  Solihidg*  x6^ 

can  there  be  to  write  a  greit  and  dift-ngu'fhed 
work,  when  the  author  is  previoufiy  convinced  that 
ev/ry  one  will  endeavor  to  turn  it  into  ridicule  th^ 
moment  ihey  learn  from  whofe  pen  it  was  produ- 
ced ?  The  deilre  of  fame  dies,  v/liere  merit  is  no 
longer  rewarded  by  praife.  But  remove  fuch  a 
u  riter  or  philofopher  from  the  multitude ;  give  them 
liberty,  leifure,  pens,  ink  and  paper,  and  they  are 
revenged ;  for  they  will  then  produce  writings  which 
w^hcle  nations  will  be  e?.ger  to  read.  A  great  va- 
riety of  raen  who  pDlle-S  extraordinary  talents,  re- 
main undiftinguillied,  only  bccaufe  their  rninds  lin- 
guilh  under  em.ployments  which  do  not  require  the- 
aid  of  thought,  and  which  fcr  that  reafon,  are  m.uch 
better  fuited  to  the  ignorant  vulgar,  than  the  refiaed 
philofopher. 

Solitude  reft  ores  ev.^ry  thing  to  its  proper  place^ 
There  the  mind  rejoices  in  beirig'  able  to  think,  in 
being  enabled  to  derive  ple.ifures  from  purfults 
which  ether  men  diHilce,  and,  of  courfe,  ia  being 
able  to  appropriate  fo  n^.uch  ti.ue  to  i:felf.  The  ha- 
tred whicii  is  generally  entertained  againli  folitary 
men,  frequ;n?iy  proves  a  fource  of  enviable  happi- 
nefs.  Indeed  ii  wouLi  be  a  great  misfcrtune  to  him 
who  is  meditating  in  tranquillity  the  execution  oF 
fome  excellent  w^ork,  if  he  v/ereuniverfally  beloved  ; 
for  every  one  wxuld  then  be  anxious  to  vifit  him  ; 
he  would  be  peftered  with  invitations  to  dinner  ; 
and  the  fir/h  queiVi  :>n  in  all  companies  would  be.. 
Will  he  come  Happily,  however,  Philofopher^ 
are  not  the  characlers  moil:'  d'ftinguiihed  and  belov- 
ed by  t;.e  world ;  and  t'-iey  have  the  pUafure  of  rc- 
fl^di;]g,  that  the  public  hatred  is  never  unirerfally 
excited  againft  an  ordinary  man.  Acknowledge, 
thrn,  that  there  is  fomething  great  in  the  man  againit 
whom  all  exclaim,  at  whom  every  one  throv/s  a 
ftone,  to  whofe  condudl  all  impute  a  thoufand  ab- 
furdities,  and  on  whofe chara6i:er  all  attempt  to  affix 
a  thoyfaod  crimes  without  being  ablet:)  prove  one- 
{XV) 


a:70  The  Influence  of  Sdlituds, 

The  fate  of  a  man  of  genius,  who  lives  retired  and 
unknov/n,  is  itill  more  enviable  :  he  nay  then  re- 
main quiet  and  alone  ;  and  as  it  will  af>pear  natural 
to  him  that  bis  fentiment^  (houH  not  be  underftood, 
he  will  not  be  lurprlied  if  the  vulgar  {h  ^uld  condeniii 
whatever  he  writes  and  all  he  fays,  or  that  the  ef- 
forts of  hi^  friends  to  correft  the  judgment  cf  the 
public  with  refpe^  to  his  rrerit,  (hould  prove  ufeiefs. 

Such  w^as,  with  refpe^l  to  the  multitude,  the 
fate  of  the  Count  Schaumhcurg  Lipp^,  better 
known  by  the  title  cf  ihe  Count  de  Buckebcurg. 
Of  all  the  German  auth  ts,!  never  knew  one  w^hoie 
wriiifjgs  were  more  ridiculed  or  fo  Rttie  underll  -  od  ; 
and  yet  his  name  was  worthy  of  being  r:.nked 
among  the  greateil  characters  whicli  his  country 
produced.  I  became  acquainted  with  him  at  a  time 
when  he  lived  alaioil  continually  in  Soliavle  and 
retired  from  the  wcrld,  managing  his  fmaU  eftate 
with  great  difcretion.  There  was  indeed,  it  muft 
be  confeffed,  feme  thing  in  his  manner  and  appear- 
ance which,  at  firft  fight,  created  dilgu'l,  and  pre- 
vented you  from  paying  a  proper  attention  to  the 
excellent  qualities  of  his  mind. 

The  Count  de  Lacy,  formerly  ambalTador 
'from  Spain  to  Peterfhurgh^  infcra^.ed  me  at  Mano- 
^er,  that  he  led  the  bpaniih  army  againfi  the  Portu- 
guefe  at  the  time  they  were  commanded  by  the 
Count  de  Buckebourg  ;  the  fingularity  of  whofe 
peribn  and  manners  fo  forcibly  flruck  the  minds  of 
all  the  Spaniih  generals,  wh'le  they  w^re  reconnoi- 
tering  the  eaemy  wi<h  their  telefccpes,  that  they  ex- 
claimed with  one  voice,  "  Are  the  Portuguefeccm- 
manded  by  Don  Quixotte  V  Th-3  arab'alladcr, 
however,  who  poflelied  a  very  liberal  miod,  Ipoke 
with  enthufiafdc  rapture  of  t'^:e  good  conducl:  of 
Buckebourg  in  P-^rtugd.  and  praifed  in  the  warm- 
efl  terms  the  ex  ;t Hence  of  his  mind  and  the  great- 
nefs  of  his  chara(?C'e  r.  Plis  iicroic  countenance,  his 
flowing  hair,  his  tail  and  meagre  figure,  and  above 


The  Infiuencc  of  Solittule,  17 1> 

all,  the  extraordinary  length  of  his  viBige,  might  m 
truth  bri  ^g  b.idc  the  recollecftion  of  the  Knight  of 
La  Mmcha  ;  for  certaia  it  is,  that  iit  a  diliance  he 
maie  a  moft  romantic  appearance  :  on  a  nearer  ap-- 
proach,  howev.r,  a  cloler  view-  immediately  con- 
viaced  you  of  ihe  contrary.  The  fire  an  i  animation' 
ofhisfeitures  a-m:>aace:l  the  eievati  3n,  fig  xity, 
penetration,  kin. inefs, virtue  and  lerenity  of  his  foul, 
Suolinae  fe  i laments  and  heroic  thoug;hts  were  as 
familiar  and  natur  d  to  his  mind,  as  they  were  tQ 
the  noohil  chara6i:c;rs  of  Greece  and  R3me. 

The  Couit  was  born  in  London,  and  his  cha-- 
ra6ler  was  with :)ut  d.:)ubt  v/aimfic  d  and  ex^raordi- 
niry.  The  anecdotes  relate  J  to  me  bv  a  German 
Prince  (a  relation  of  G  junt  Guillaume)  c  .^ncernin.i? 
I  him,  are  perhaps  not  generally  kn^wn.  He  was 
I  fond  of  con^en  iiag  wiih  the  EngUili  in  every  tliingo 
'  For  inftmce,  he  hid  a  v/ager,  that  he  would  ride 
an  horfe  to  Edinburgh  hackwarJs,  that  is  with  the 
hvife'ohead  turned  towards  EJinb'.irgh,  and  the 
1  Couat's  fiice  t:)W  .rds  London  ;  and  in  this  manner 
I  lie  afta \Uy  r.:de  through  fevsral  counties  in  England. 
He  not  only  traverled  t^;e  greateif  parr  of  that  king- 
dom on  foot,  but  travelled  in  company  with  a  Ger- 
man  prince  through  feveral  of  the  counties  in  the 
charader  of  a  beggar.  Biing  informed  that  pare 
of  the  current  of  'he  D.mube,  above  Regenfberg, 
was  fo  ftro  ig  an.l  rapid  that  no  one  ever  d.tred  to 
fwim  acrofs  it,  he  m.ade  the  attempt,  and  fv/am  fo- 
far  that  it  v/as  v/ith  difficulty  he  faved  h^.s  hfe.  A 
great  ftatefman  aud  profound  phiiofopher  related  to 
me  at  Hanover,  that,  during  the  war  in  w^hich  the 
C:unt  commanded  the  artillery  in  the  army  of 
Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunfwick  againft  the  French,, 
he  one  day  invited  feveral  Ha^toverian  officers  to 
dine  with  him  in  his  tent.  When  the  company 
v/ere  in  hij^h  fpirits  and  full  of  gaiety,  feveral  can-- 
non-balls  flew  in  diiTerentdiredions  about  the  tent.- 
"  Tne  French/'  exclaimed  the  officers, cannot. 


172  The  InfMcnce  of  Miiude. 

ba  far  ofF"— "  No,  n-/'  replied  the  Count,  "  th,? 
enemy,  I  affiire  you,  are  at  a  great  difiince  ;"*nd 
lie  delired  them  to  k?ep  their  feats.  1  he  firmg 
foon  afrerwards  nxominenced  ;  when  one  of  the 
balls  carrying  av/ay  the  top  of  the  tent,  the  officers, 
rcfe  fuddenly  from  their  chairs,  exclaiming,  I'he 
French^  are  here/'—''  No,'*  replied  the  Count, 
the  French  are  net  here  ;  and  therefore,  Gentle- 
men, I  dehre  you  will  again  fit  d  own,  a  nd  rely  upcn 
my  word."'  The  balls  continued  to  ily  about ;  the 
ojlicers,  however,  continued  to  cat  and  drink  with- 
out apprehePifion,  though  not  without  whilpering 
iheir  coDjefturCa  to  each  c>ther  upon  the  fin[(ularity 
of  their  entertainmen^  The  Count  at  Iei:gth  rofe 
fiFom  the  table,  and  addrefii^g  himfelf  to  the  ccni- 
pany,  faid,  "  Gentlemen,  I  was  willing  to  convince 
■T'ou  how  well  1  can  rely  upon  the  cfhcers  cf  my  ar- 
4:ill^ry  ;  for  I  ordered  them  to  f  re,  durii:g  ths  time 
T;e  continued  at  cinner,  at  the  pinnacle  of  the  tenr  ^ 
^-^nd  thev  have  executed  my  orders  with  great  punc- 
tuality 

Rcfl:6'ting  minds  w'll  net  be  uiithankful  for 
thel'^e  traits  of  the  chara(rter  cf  a  man  anxious  to  ex- 
crcifc  himfeif  and  thole  under  his  command  in  every 
thirg  th'^.t  appeared  diiricult  or  enterprifing.  Being 
ene  day  in  company  with  the  Count  i")y  the  fide  of 
a  magazine  of  gun-powder  v/hich  he  had  made  un- 
der his  bed-chamber  in  fort  AVilhelmllein,  I  obfer- 
ved  to  him,  that  "  I  ihould  not  Deep  very  content- 
edly there  during  forne  of  the  hot  nights  cf  himmer/'" 
The  Count,  however,  convinced  me,  though  I  do 
net  now  recollecl:  how,  that  the  greateii  danger  and 
no  d;mger  is  one  and  the  fame  thing.  When  I 
firil  faw  this  exiraordinary  man,  which  was  in  the 
company  of  an  Engliih  and  a  Portuguefe  officer,  he 
entertained  me  for  two  hours  with'a  difcourfe  upon 
the  Phyliology  of  Halier,  whcfe  works  he  knew  by 
liearf.  The  enfuing  morning,  he  infilled  on  my  ac- 
companying him  in  a  little  boat,  which  he  rowed 


27;^?  Ihfljence  of  S^lifucU, 


1-73 


hlmreif,  to  fort  Wilrielmftein,  which,  from  pl?.rs  hs 
(hewed  me  of  his  own  drawing,  be  h:id  conllrucled 
in  the  midiis  of  the  water,  where  not  a  foot  of  land 
w.LS  to  be  feen.  On  Sunday,  upon  the  great  pa-^- 
radd  at  Pyrmont,  furrounded  by  many  thcufand 
men  who  were  occupied  in  drefs,  dancing  and  ma- 
king love,  he  entertained  me  on  the  very  fpot  dur- 
ing the  courfe  of  two  hours,  and  with  as  much  tran- 
quillity as  if  we  had  been  alone,  by  detailing  all  the 
arguments  that  have  been  ufed  to  prove  the  exifU 
ence  of  God,  pointing  out  their  defedive  partSjacd 
convincing  me  that  he  could  furpafs  them  alL  •  To 
prevent  niy  efcape  from  this  leffon,  he  held  me  fall 
all  the  time  by  the  button  of  my  coat.  He  fhewed 
me,  at  his  feat  at  Buckebourg,  a  large  foHo  volume 
.  ia  his  own  hand-writing,  On  the  Art  of  defend- 
ing a  fmall  Town  againll  a  great  Power.'^  The 
work  was  com^pletely  finifhed,  and'  defigned  as  a 
prefent  to  the  King  of  Portugal  ;  but  he  did  me 
tre  favor  to  res  d  many  pallages  refpe<S:ing  the  fe-- 
curiiy  cf  Swifferland. — The  Count  confidered  the 
Swifs  invincible  ;  and  pointed  out  to  me  net  only 
all  the  important  parts  which  they  might  occupy 
againflan  enemy,  but  fhewed  me  roads  which  a  cat 
would  fcarcely  be  able  to  crav/i  through.  I  do  not 
bilieve  that  any  thing  was  ever  written  of  higher 
importance  to  the  inrereils  of  any  country  than  this 
work  ;  for  the  manufcript  contains  ftriking  anfwers 
to  all  the  obje(n:ions  a  Swifs  himitlf  could  make. 
My  frienJ,  M.  Moyfe  Mendelfohm,  to  whom  the 
Count  had  read  the  preface  to  this  work  atPyrmont, 
confidered  it  as  a  made r- piece,  both  for  its  correct 
language  and  tine  philcfcphy  ;  for  the  Count  could  ^ 
WTite  the  French  language  with  almcft  the  fame  eafe, 
elegance,  and  purity  as  Voltaire  ;  while  in  the  Ger- 
man he  was  labored,  perplexed,  and  diffufe.  What 
adds  to  his  praife  is,  that  upon  his  return  to  Pcrtu- 
gal,  he  had  with  him,  for  many  years,  two  of  the 
mofl  acute  mafters  of  Germany,  firft  Abbt.  aad 
(XV  2) 


174 


The  Injluencc  cf  Solkude* 


afterwards  Herder.  Thcfe  uho  fee  with  more  pen- 
etratiDg  eyes  than  mice,  and  have  hid  more  oppor- 
tunities to  make  Gblervations,  c.re  able  to  relate  a 
variety  of  remarkable  anecdotes  concerning  this 
truly  great  ar^d  extraordiaary  man.  I  (hall  oolyadd 
one  obiervation  more  reljpecting  his  cliaracler.avail- 
icg  myfclfof  the  words  of  Shaksfpeare  :  tr.eCoDnt 
Guiilaume  de  SchaumbcurgL'ppe  carries  no  dagger ; 

"  He  has  a  lean  and  hungry  look— • 
*'  ————but  he's  not  dangerous  j 

<(  —  He  reads  much  ^ 

"He  is  a  great  obferver  ^  apd  he  looks 

Quite  through  the  deeds  ot  naen.r    Fie  loves  no  ^ilajs  ; 
^'^  — he  hears  no  muGc  j 

Seldom  he  fmiles,  and  fmiies  in  fuch  a  fort, 

As  if  he  mock'd  himfelf,  and  fcorn'd  his  fpirit 

That  could  be  movM  to  fmile  at  a-iy  thin-." 

Julius  Osfar,  A€t  1.  Scene  4. 

Such  v/as  the  cham£ler,  alway?  rnifunder flood, 
of  this  Iclitary  man.  A  charrxcer  of  this  defcriptioii 
may  well  fmile,  when  he  perceives  himfelf  fcoffed 
at  by  the  world  ;  but  what  mufi  be  the  ihanie  and 
confuiion  of  thofe  partial  judges,  when  they  fhail 
behold  the  monument  which  the  grveat  Mendelfchm 
has  erecled  to  his  memory  ;  or  the  judicious  hifl:  )ry 
of  his  life  which  a  young  author  is  about  to  publifh 
at  Haiiover  ;  the  profound  fentiments,  the  noble 
iiyle,  the  truth  and  fmcerity  of  which  will  be  difcov- 
cred  and  acknowkdge-dby  imp3.rdal  poderity  ! 

The  men  who  laugh,  as  1  have  fecu  them  laugh 
a  thoufand  times,  at  Buckebourg,  on  account  of 
his  long  vifige,  his  flowing  hair,  his  great  hat,  and 
little  fword,  may  very  v/ell  indulge  their  fmiles  of 
fcorn,  if,  Hke  the  Count,  they  are  philofephers  and 
heroes.  The  Count  de  13uckebourg,  however,  nev- 
er fm.iled  at  the  world  or  upon  men  but  with  kind- 
nefs.  Without  hatred,  v/ithout  mifanthropy,  he 
enjoyed  the  tranquillity  of  his  country-houfe,  iitua- 
ted  in  the  bofom  of  a  thick  foreft,  frequently  alone, 
or  with  the  virtuous  woman  whom  he  had  chofen 
for  his  wife  5  and  for  whom,  while  living,  hs  did 


The  Influence  of  Soliiiide.  IJ^ 

cot  appear  to  entertain  any  extraordinary  fond^efs; 
but  v/lien  flie  died,  his  affe^lion  for  her  was  ib 
great,  that  the  lofs  of  her  brought  him  almoil  to 
the  p^rave. 

Lt  was  thus  that  the  people  laughed  at  Themif- 
tocle^,  in  Athens.  They  reviled  him  openly  as  he 
paHed  along  the  fcreets,  becaufe  he  did  not  poffefs 
the  manners  of  the  WT^rld,  the  ton  of  good  company, 
and  was  ignorant  of  that  accomplifhjrie.nt  called 
genteel  breeding  :  One  day,  however,  he  retorted 
upon  thefe  railers  v/ith  tVekeens^ft:  afperlty — "  It  is 
true,"  faid  he,  "  1  never  1  earned  how  to  tune  a  iyre^ 
or  play  upon  a  lute  ;  but  I  knov/  how  to  raife  a 
faiail  and  inconfiderable  city  to  glory  and  greatnefs.*' 

Solitude  and  philofophy,  therefore,  although 
tV.ey  may  infpire  fendments  at  v.'hich  the  world  woll 
laugh,  banifn  every  m.ean  and  fordid  idea  from  the 
mind,  and  prepare  the  way  for  the  grandefL  and 
moil  fublim^e  conceptions.  He  who  is  accuftomed 
to  uudy  the  chara<flers  of  great  men,  and  to  admire 
elevated  fentiments,  will  almofi  imperceptibly  adopt 
a  romantic  fiyle  of  thinking,  which  may  frequently 
afford  an  ample  fabjeci:  to  laughter.  The  romantic 
mind  always  views  things  differently  from  what 
they  are  ©r  ever  can  be ;  and  a  conftant  habit  of 
contemplating  the  fublime  and  beautiful,  renders 
fuch  charaders  in  the  eyes  of  the  weak  and  wicked, 
ridiculous  and  infuppcr table.  Men  of  thig  turn  of 
mind  always  difcover  a  noblenefs  of  foul  which  fre* 
quently  offends  the  faihionable  world  ;  but  it  is  not 
on  that  account  lefs  noble.  The  pUilolbphers  of 
India  annually  quitted  their  folitude  to  vlfit  the  paU 
ace  of  the  king,  when  each  of  tliem,  in  his  turn,  de- 
livered his  advice  upon  the  government  of  the  itate, 
and  upon  the  changes  and  limitations  which  might 
be  made  in  the  laws.  He  w^ho  three  fucceffive  times 
communicated  fslfe  or  unimportant  oblervations, 
loft,  for  one  ^'enr,  the  privilege  of  fpeaking  in  the 
pretence  of  the  fovereign.   There  are  luany  other 


I'/ 6  The  Influence  ff  Sillitid^s 

romantic  philcfcprers,  who  would  require  much 
more,  but  would  do  nothing.  Plotinus  requeited 
the  Emperor  Gxdlienus  to  confer  upon  him  the  fove- 
re'gnty  of  a  fmAll  city  in  CaiTipania,  and  the  lands 
appendant  to  it.  The  city  was  to  be  called  Platc- 
nopoiis  ;  for  Plctinus  had  promifed  to  refide  there 
with  his  friends  and  followers,  and  realize  the  re- 
public of  Plato.  But  it  happened  then  as  it  fre- 
quently happens  now  in  many  courts  to  philofo- 
phers  much  lefs  chimerical  than  Plotinus — ^the  cour- 
tiers laughed  at  the  propofal,  and  told  theem.peror 
that  the  philofopher  was  a  fool,  whofe  mind  expe-- 
rience  could  not  refoim. 

^  The  pidure  of  the  greatnefs  and  virtue  of  the 
ancients  produces,in  Solitude,  thehappieft  influence 
upon  minds  fufceptible  of  thole  ideas  and  fentiments, . 
Sparks  of  th?.t  bright  flame  which  warmicd  the  bo- 
forns  of  the  great  and  good,  fometimes  operate  the 
nioit  unexpected  effects.  To  cheer  the  drooping 
fplrits  of  a  lady  in  the  country  whofe  health  was 
impaired  by  a  nervous  affe^Bon,  I  advifed  her  to 
read  very  frequently  the  hiftcry  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  Empires.  At  the  expiration  of  three  months 
fne^Tote  to  me,  "  Vfith  what  veneration  for  anti- 
quity have  you  ii^fpired  my  mdnd  I  Wh  it  are  ike 
buzzing  race  of  th^  prefent  age,  when  compared  with 
thcfe  noble  chara<Sters  !  Hiftcry  heretofore  was  not 
my  favorite  ftudy  ;  now  I  hve  only  on  its  pages. 
I  feel  during  the  prcgrefs  of  my  ftudy,  the  ftrongeH 
inclioation  to  becomie  acquainted  with  all  the  tranf- 
adions  of  Greece  and  Rome. .  It  has  opened  to  m.e 
an  inexhauilibli  fource  of  pleafure  and  health.  I 
could  not  have  believed  that  my  library  contained 
fo  inefiimable  a  treafure  ;  it  will  become  dearer  to 
jfne  than  any  thing  I  inherit.  In  the  courie  of  fix 
months  you  will  no  longer  be  troubled  with  my 
complaints.  My  Plutarch  has  already  become  more 
valuable  to  me  than  all  the  triumphs  of  coquetry,  or 
all  ihat  fejitimental  writing  addrelTed  to  ladies  in  the 


7T-  ^  "  ■■cecf'Mtiidc.  177 

country  v/iio  r  .  ^  cv.  le.d  to  be  all  he?.rt,  and  \uih 
v;  hi>ni  latan  phys  tricks  of  love  with^tlie  faraead- 
drcfs  'ci5  a  dvhuinte  plays  tricks  of  r/iulic  m  the  vio- 
lin.** This  lady,  who,  I  coi -fefs,  is  learne:%  gives 
me  further  information  refpecting  the  conducl:  of 
her  kitchen,  and  ihe  management  of  her  p^uliry 
yard  hut  fhe  hss  recovered  her  heal  h,  and  I  think 
(he  v/ill  hereafter  find  as  much  pkafure  in  houfe- 
keeping  and  feeding:  her  ciiickens  ihe  did  formerly 
from  the  p  ges  of  Plutarch. 

The  hi.'.lcry  of  the  gra-.deiir  and  \  irtue  ef  the 
?.n:€ients  cannot  operate  for  any  length  of  time^  ex- 
cept in  the  tranquilhiy  of  retirement,  or  among  a 
fmall  circle  of  men  ;  but  it  may  produce  in  the  event 
the  happ^.en:  eftcCts.  The  min  1  of  a  man  of  gsnius^ 
is  during  his  Cditary  Vv^aiks  iilhd  with  a  crowd  of 
ideas  which  appear  ridiculous  to  h's  fellovv -citizens ; 
but  ihc:  perio-d  will  arrive,  when  they  will  lead  m.il- 
lions  to  perform  actions  wo!  thy  of  immcrlaliiy* 
The  Swifs  fjngs  comxpoied  by  Lavater  appeared  at 
a  time  unfavorable  to  their  reception,  and  when  the 
Republic  v/as  in  a  dechning  ftate.  The  Swifs  So- 
cie'y  of  Schin'.zu  xh,  who  had  prevailed  upon  that 
a.rde::t  genius  tocom.pofs  thcfe  fcngs,  offended  the 
French  AmbalTador,  and  from  that  time  the  Soci- 
ety was  exclaimed  agalnicirom  every  corner  of  the 
kingdjm.  The  great  Haller  himfelf  pointed  his 
epigrams  againft  the  members  in  every  letrer  which 
I  received  from  him  ;  for  they  had  brg  refufed  to 
admit  him  into  the  Society. — He  confido'  ed  us  as 
enemies  to  orthodoxy,  and  difciples  of  Jean  Jacques 
RoufTeau,  a  man  hateful  to  his  eyes.  ThePrcfident 
of  the  committee  for  the  reformation  of  literature 
defended  at  Zurich  the  Swifs  Songs  of  Lavater, 
from  the  excellent  motive,  That  it  was  not  lawful 
to  ftir  up  the  old  dun^-hilL  No  p-^et  of  Greece, 
however,  wrote  'with  more  fire  ar.d  force  in  favor  of 
his  country  than  I/avater  did  for  the  interells  of 
Swifferhnd.   I  have  heard  children  chaunt  thefs 


nS  The  Injluencc  of  Solihid^, 

fongs  vith  p^itriotic  enthufiafm,  and  feen  the'  fiaeil 
eyes  fiiied  with  tears  whil;'  theT  ears  lifliened  to  the 
finger.  Rapture  glowed  in  the  bre^fts  of  the  Swifs 
peafants  to  whom  they  were  fung  ;  their  mufcbs 
iwelled,  the  bbod  inflamed  their  cheoic?.  Fathers 
with  v/nom  I  am  acquainted  have  carried  their  in- 
fant children  to  the  Chapel  of  Will'a  n  IVll,  to  fmg 
in  full  chorus  the  fong  which  Lavater  wrote  upon 
the  merits  of  that  great  man.  Lh  ve  made  the 
rocks  re-echo  to  my  voice,  by  fniging  thefe  fongs  to 
the  mnfic  which  ray  heart  co.aiporci  f  ^r  t'le  a  ia 
the  fields,  and  upon  th  ie  c:le>',-^red  mountains 
where  thefe  htroes,  the  ancellors  .four  rare,  figna- 
r.zed  rhemfdvrs  by  their  immortal  v  ib^.  I  thrught 
myfelf  eacompaHed  by  their  vensraoie  fn^-des.  I 
fancied  that  I  faw  them  iiill  armed  with  their  kaot- 
te  i  clubs  breaking  to  pieces  the  crowned  helmets 
of  Germany,  and,  alth  ragh  inferior  in  numbers, 
forcing  the  proud  nobility  to  feek  their  faf-ty  by  a 
precip^.tare  and  ignomu^ious  (iignt. 

'i'h's,  L  fnaii  perhaps  be  told,  is  romantic  !  for 
romantic  ideas  can  only  pleafe  folitary  and  reclufe 
men,  who  al  ;/ay3  fee  objtfe  in  a  different  point  of 
view  from  the  multitude  around  them.  Great  idea?, 
however,  fometinies  penetrate  ia  fpite  of  the  meal: 
obilinate  refinance.  In  republics  they  operate  in- 
fenbly,  and  inlipire  ebvated  femimeats,  waich  may 
become  exteniively  ufeful  in  times  of  trouble  and 
coiTimotion. 

Every  tiling  unites  in  Solitude  to  raifethe  foul 
and  fortify  the  numaa  characfler,  becanfe  the  mind 
th'-re  habkuates  itfelf,  muc.i  better  than  in  tne 
world,  to  noble  featiments  and  heroic  refolutions- 
The  folirary  man  polleiles  a  charm  againfi:  all  the 
fhafts  of  ftupidicy ,  envy  and  wickedneis.  Ref  .^Ived 
to  think  and  to  a'cl  upon  every  cccafion  in  oppofition 
to  the  featiments  of  narrow  minds,  he  attends  to  ail 
the  contrarieties  he  meets  wnth,  but  is  aftonifhed  at 
noae.   Entertaimug  a  juft  and  rational  efteeai  for 


ite  Jnpience  Solitude. 


friends,  but  fenfible  aif^  that  t'^ey,  like  enennies, 
ge^'.  nilly  indulge  tneir  fe  ii-^gs  to  excefs,  t  iat  ?.\\  of 
theai  ar-  partial,  and  inclined  to  f  riii  too  fav^ra-. 
ble  ajud;2;ment,  he  app  ^.^Is  t -eref  re  to  th^  jadg- 
ment  of  the  public  ;  nor,  indeed  to  the  public  -^f  his 
own  city,  who  always  confider  t.  t  per/on  and  not  the 
thing  in  controverly,  who  never  decide  until  they 
have  heard  the  opinions  of  two  or  three  beaux  efprits ; 
but  he  appeals  to  thr  world  at  L.rge,  at  v.  hole  im- 
parti.d  tribunal  he  appears,  and,  with  his  works  in 
his  hand,  demands  the  jufbice  that  is  due. 

But  it  is  commonly  thought  that  Solitude  by 
elevating  t;  e  fentiments,  renders  the  mind  unfit  for 
bufmefs :  this,  however,  I  do  not  believe,  it  rauit 
cvsrr  be  highly  beneficial  to  raife  the  f  ul  by  tbe  ad- 
vantages of  retirement,  and  to  exprcife  the  miud  in 
Solitude  in  fuch  a  manner  as  will  prevent  our  totter- 
insc  fo  frequently  in  the  world,  and  give  us  full  pof- 
feiTion  of  it  in  all  the  events  of  public  life.  The  love 
of  truth  is  prefer ved  by  SoUtude,  and  virtue  there 
acquires  a  greater  firmnefs ;  although  I  acknowledge 
that  in  bufmefs  it  is  not  needful  always  to  tell  tr.e 
truth,  and  that  a  rigid  virtue  frequently  mifcarries 
in  the  alTairs  of  life. 

Ti-e  virtue  and  fim.plicity  of  manners  which 
Solitude  produces,  are  revered  by  the  j.!:reat  and 
good  of  every  clime.  It  was  th'.fe  ineliiir.able  qual- 
ities v;hich,  curing  the  higriefl  fury  of  the  war  be- 
tween England  and  France,  obtained  the  philcfo- 
phic  Jean  Andre  de  I.uc  the  reception  he  met  with 
at  the  court  of  Verjailks^  and  infplred  the  breafi:  of 
the  virtuous,  the  immortal  de  Vergennes  with  the 
deiire  to  reform,  by  m.eans  of  a  philofopher,  the 
heads  of  the  cir'zens  of  Geneva,  which  he,  with  all 
the  power  of  the  Prime  Minifter  of  France,  had  not 
been  able  to  elFe£l.  Da  I^uc,  at  the  requePt  of  the 
ininifler,  made  the  attempt,  but  failed  of  fuccefs  ; 
and  France,  as  it  is  well  kuov/n,  was  obliged  to 
lend  an  army  to  reclaiai  the  Geaevefe.  it  was  Ui> 


X  So  T/je  Influence  of  SoUtucuu  \ 

on  his  favorite  mountains  that  the  philofopher  Jetin  ^ 
/.ndre  de  Liic  acquired  that  fiiiipHclty  cf  manners^ 
which  he  fiill  prelerves  amid  all  the  luxury  of  Lon- 
don, where  he  endures  withfirmneis  ail  the  wants, 
refuies  all  the  indulgences,  and  fubdues  all  the  de- 
fircsof  fecial  life.  At  Hanover  I  could  only  re- 
mark one  lingie  in!  Lance  of  luxury  in  which  he  in- 
dulged himfelf :  when  any  thing  vexed  his  mind, 
he  chewed  a  little  morfei  of  fugar,  and,  of  courfe, 
always  carried  a  (mail  fupnly  of  it  in  his  pocket. 

Sohtude  not  only  creates  fimplicity  of  manners, 
but  prepares  nnd  freiigthens  the  facuhies  for  the 
toils  of  bufy  life.  Foilered  in  the  bofom  of  retire- 
ment, the  mind  fe^ls  a  greater  degree  of  activity 
when  it  engages  in  the  tranfaclions  of  the  world, 
and  retires  again  into  tranqaiiiity  to  repofa  iifelf, 
and  prep?. re  for  a  new  confiid.  Pericles,  Fh:^cion, 
EpaminonJas,  laid  the  fcundaiion  of  all  their  great- 
ntfs  in  Solitude  :  they  there  acquired  that  llyle 
which  is  not  to  be  learned  in  the  fcrum  of  the  Uni- 
veriity — the  ftyle  of  their  future  lives  and  actions. 
When  the  mind  of  Pericles  was  occupied  i)y  impor- 
tant cbj:s61:s,  he  never  appeared  in  the  ftreets  ex- 
cept to  tranfadi:  his  bul'neis,  and  inftantly  renoun- 
ced feafcing?,  pul;lic  affimiblies,  and  every  other 
pleaiure  of  tre  kind.  While  the  admiriftration  of 
the  affairs  of  tiie  r:-public  w  is  in  his  hands,  he  only 
went  once  to  fup  v/ith  a  friend,  and  came  away 
very  focn.  Phocion  immediately  refigned  hindelf 
to  the  ftudyof  p'lili.  iophy.nct  from  the  onentaticus 
motive  of  being  called  a  wile  man,  but  to  place  him- 
felf in  a  condition  to  conduci:  the  '  ufrnefs  of  the 
Irate  with  greater  reiblution  and  effed,*  I'he  peo- 
ple were  alioniihed,  and  ii^ quired  of  each  other, 
when  and  by  what  m.eai:s  Epaminondas,  after  hav- 
ing palled  his  whole  life  in  fiudy,  had  not  only  learn- 

*  Thus  Tacitus  fpeaks  of  Helvidius  Prii'cus  :  "  Ingeniom  i)ltif?re 
altioribus  ftudiis  juvenis  admodum  dedit,  non  ut  raagnifico  nomine  cci- 
tai  velarei,  led  guolirmior  advexfuc  fortuiU  rempubiicani  capcffeietc'* 


The  Influence  of  Sofitude.  1 8  f 

I  ed,  but  as  it  were  all  at  once  exercifed  the  military 
i  art  in  i's  highefl  perfeclion.    He  was  frugal  cf  his 
time,  devoted  his  miad  entirely  to  the  delights  of 
;  literature,  and,  dcfiring  nothing  fo  much  as  to  b«2 
i  exempt  from  bufmefs,  withdrew  himr:lf  from  every 
public  employment.    His  country  forced  him  frcin 
the  retreats  of  Solitu.'le,  gave  him  the  command  of 
1  the  anny,  and  he  laved  the  repubhc, 

A  chara^ler  upoCi  which  I  never  reflect  but  with 
I  the  high  jft  tranfports,  the  character  of  Petrar>:h, 
was  formed  entirely  in  Sohtude,  and  was  by  that 
means  rendered  capable  of  rranfafting  the  moil 
j  complicated  pontical  affairs.    Petrarch  was  without 
'  doubt,  Ibmelimes,  what  perfons  very  frequently  be- 
come in  Solitude,  choleric,  fatirical,  and  petulant. 
He  has  been  reproached  with  great  feverity  for  the 
lively  piftures  he  has  drawn  of  the  manners  of  his 
age,  and  particularly  for  his  portrait  of  the  fcenes 
of  infamy  wrich  were  tranfafled  at  Avignon  under 
the  reign  of  Pope  Clement  the  Sixth.  But  Petrarch 
was  perfedly  acquainted  with  the  human  heart, 
knew  how  to  manage  the  paffions  with  uncommon 
dexterity,  and  to  ccndu(fr  them  diredly  to  his  pur- 
pofe.    The  Abbe  de  Sades,  the  beii  hiftorian  of 
his  life,  fays,  "  Petrarch  was  fcarcely  known  ex- 
cept as  a  tender  and  elegant  poet,  who  loved  with 
unextinguifhable  ardor,  and  fang,  in  all  the  harmo- 
■  ny  of  vcirfe,  the  graces  of  his  mifcrefs  ;  and  nothing 
morels  known  of  his  charafter.''    They  knew  not 
i  all  ti^.e  obligations  that  lirerature,  which  he  reclaim- 
I  ed  from  the  barbarity  under  which  it  had  been  fo 
I  long  buried,  owes  to  his  p^n.  They  knew  not  that 
1  he  laved  the  works  of  thc^  befl;  writers  of  antiquity 
from  duft  ar.d  rottennefs  ;  that  all  ihefe  precious 
treafures  would  have  been  loft  to  us,  if  he  had  not 
dug  them  from  the  grave,  and  procured  correcl:  cc- 
V^es  of  them  to  be  made.  They  were  ignorant,  per- 
haps, that  he  was  the  firft  reftorer  of  the  belks  lettrcs 
m  Er.rope ;  that  he  purified  the  taftc  of  the  age  ; 
rXVD 


i  %  2  7 he  Injtuencc  of  Solitude.  ' 

that  he  himftlF  thought  and  wrote  like  an  anclerrt: 
citizen  of  R  ome  before  its  tall ;  that  he  extirpated  a 
jnultitude  of  prejudices,  preferved  his  courage  and 
his  firmnefs  until  the  hour  of  his  death,  and  that  his 
laft  work  furpaffed  all  thofe  which  had  preceded  it. 
Still  lefs  were  they  informed  that  Petrarch  was  an 
able  llatefman,  to  v/hom  the  mcft  celebrated  (cve- 
j^igns  of  his  age  cor.iided  every  diflicult  negocia- 
tion,  aud  confulied  in  their  moft  important  concerns ; 
that  in  the  fourteenth  century  he  poflefTed  a  degree 
of  fame,  credif,  and  influence,  which  no  man  of 
learijing  of  the  prefent  day  has  ever  acquired ;  that 
three  popes,  an  emperor,  a  fovereign  of  France,  '<\ 
:king  of  Naples,  a  crcv;d  of  cardinals,  the  greateft 
princes,  the  moft  illuftrious  nob'lity  of  Italy,  culti- 
•  vated  his  friemdfhip,  and  fohcited  h^.s  correfpond- 
ence  ;  that,  as  a  ftitefman,  a  minifter,  an  ambaffi- 
dor,  he  was  employed  in  tranlacting  fome  of  the 
greatefl  affairs  of  the  age ;  that  he  was  thereby 
placed  in  a  fituation  to  inftrucl  them  inthem.  fi: 
ufeful  and  important  truths  ;  that  to  Solitude  alone 
he  owed  all  this  power ;  that  no  perfon  was  better 
acquainted  with  its  advantages,  cherifhed  it  with 
greater  fondnefs,  or  refcunded  its  praifes  with  great- 
er energy ;  and  that  he  at  length  preferred  liberty 
and  leifure  to  all  the  enjoyments  of  the  world.  He 
appeared  a  long  time  enervated  by  love,  to  which 
he  had  confecrated  the  prime  of  his  life  ;  but  he 
fuddenly  abandoned  the  foft  and  effeminate  tone 
with  which  he  fighed  at  Laura's  feet ;  addreffed 
Jiimfelf  with  manly  boldcefs  to  kings,  to  emperors, 
to  popes  ;  and  ever  afterwards  maintained  that  con- 
•fidence  which  fine  talents  and  a  great  chara(5i:2r  al- 
ways infpire.  With  an  eloquence  worthy  of  De- 
mofthenes  and  Cicero,  he  exhorted  the  princes  of 
Italy  to  make  peace  among  themfelves,  and  to  unite 
their  powers  againil  the  common  enemies,  the  bar- 
barians, who  tore  to  pieces  the  very  bofom  of  their 
cauatry.  He  encouraged,  guided  and  fupported 


The  Influence  of  Solitude,  l  B'3  ' 

Rienzi,  who  appeared  like  a  guardian  angel  Tent 
from  Heaven  to  re-eftablifh  the  original  fplcndcr  of 
the  city  of  Rome.  He  incited  a  pul-Ilanimous  em- 
peror to  p2netra<e  into  the  heart  of  italy,  and  leize, 
as  the  facceilor  cf  the  Ca^fars,  the  g:.vernment  of 
tlie  empire.  He  conjured  the  popes  to  repla-re  the 
holy  chair,  which  they  had  tranipDrted  to  the  bor-" 
ders  of  the  Rhin?,  once  more  upon  the  banks' of  the 
Tiber.  At  a  time  even  when  he  acknowledges,  \n 
ore  of  his  writings,  that  his  mind  was  filled  with 
vexation,  hisbr.ibm  tormented  by  a  tender  paffion 
which  he  was  inceSandy  endeavoring  to  conquer, 
difguited  with  the  conduct  of  men,  and  tire  !  with 
pubhclife,  Pope  Clement  the  Sixt'u  who,  without 
doubt,  was  ignorant  cf  what  vvas  paiTrng  in  his  heart, 
intrufled  him  wiih  a  negcciation  of  great  difHculty 
to  the  ccurt  cf  Naples,  Petrarrh  undertook  the 
charge.  Pie  confclTes  that  the  hfe  cf  a  court  had 
rendered  him  ambitious,  bufy,  and  enterprizing  ; 
and  that  it  was  laughable  to  behold  a  hermit,  ac- 
culfomed  to  hve  in  woods,  and  traverfe  the  plains^ 
now  running  through  the  magnificent  palaces  of 
cardinals,  with  a  crowd  of  courtiers  in  his  fuite. 
When  John  Vifconti,  Archbifhcp  and  Prince  of 
Mil  m,  and  fjvereign  c  fall  Lombnrdy,  a  man  who 
united  the  fiaefl  talen's  with  an  ambition  fo  infatia- 
ble  that  it  threatened  to  fwaliow  up  all  Italy,  had  ■ 
the  happinefs  to  fix  Petrarch  in  his  interefts,  and  by 
inducing  him  to  underiakethe  office  of  private  Se- 
cretary, to  gain  every  thing  that  could  accompany- 
fuch  an  acquifition,  a  philoibpher  and  man  of  learn- 
ing, who  efteemed  Scfiiude  above  any  other  fitua- 
tion  ;  the  friends  of  Petrarch  exclaimed,  "  How  ' 
this  bold  republican,  who  breathed  no  fentiment,^ 
but  thcfe  of  liberty  and  independence,  this  untamed 
bull,  who  fpurned  at  the  fhadow  ci  the  yoke  ;  who 
dildained  to  wear  any  other  fetters  than  thcfe  of 
bve,  rnd  who  frequenly  found  even  thefe  too  hea- 
vy y  who  r^fufed  fo  many  advantageous  olTers  fr^m' 


1 84  The  Influence  ^  Solitude ^ 

the  court  of  Rome,  and  preferred  his  liberty  to 
theenilaving  charms  of  gold,  now  voluntarily  fub- 
mits  to  the  fhackles  of  the  tyrant  of  It?ly ;  thiq 
mifanthrope,  who  could  no  longer  exifl  in  rural 
tranquillity  ;  this  great  apoitle  of  Solitude,  has  ai 
length  quietly  taken  his  habitation  amidih  tb.e  tu- 
mults of  Milan  "  My  friends,'^  replied  IV 
trarcb,  "  you  are  perfeclly  riglir ;  man  has  not  a 
greater  enemy  than  hirofelf.  1  hive  acled  contra- 
ry to  mj  inclination,  and  againft  my  own  fenti- 
ments.  Alas  in  all  the  tranfactions  of  our  lives, 
we  do  thofe  things  thu  we  ought  not  to  do,  and 
leave  undone  thofe  things  to  v/hi^h  we  are  moll 
inclined."  But  Petrarch  might  have  told  his  friends, 
*'  1  was  inclined  to  give  yon  an  example  of  what  a 
man  is  able  to  do  io  the  affairs  of  the  world,  when 
he  has  fufficiently  exercifed  the  powers  of  his  mh;d 
iQ  Solitude,  and  to  convince  ycu  that  a  previous 
retirement  confers  liberty,  iirmnefs,  expreffion,  fo- 
lidity,  dignity  and  n^Bbility  upon  all  the  tranfadior.s 
of  public  life.*' 

Averfion  from  the  commefce  cf  the  wo4-ld  and 
the  frivolous  employments  of  the  m.erropcl'.s,  in- 
fpires  the  mind  with  a  fullici  nt  degree  of  comrge 
to  defpife  the  prejudices  of  the  age,  and  the  opin- 
ions of  the  mul'itude  ;  a  coun^.ge  which  is  there- 
fore feldom  found  except  amorg  iblitary  men.  The 
comir.erce  of  the  wcrl.^  far  from  fortifying  i\\z 
foul,  only  weakens  it,  in  ilie  fime  m.anner  that  e[> 
joyment,  too  frequently  repeated,  blunts  the  cd|^e 
of  every  pleai\n-e.  C)  '  i;ow  frequently  the  belt 
plans  fail  of  fucccfs  from  diilicult'cs  of  execution, 
notwithfiandir  g  the  accuracy  and  excellence  with 
which  they  arc  farmed  :  How  many  h?ppy  thoughts 
have  been  {tilled  at  the  moment  cf  their  birih,  be- 
cauie  they  then  appeared  rather  too  bold  I  Whea 
a  literary  work  appears,  no  inquiry  is  made  con- 
cernirg  the  excellence  of  the  matter  or  the  elega::ce 
of  its  compofition.   1  he  readtr  fecks  only  to  di- 


The  Infmcnce  of  Solitude,  rG  ^ 

vine  the  intention  of  the  author  ;  coDftrnes  every 
cxpreilion  contrary  to  its  import ;  perceives  a  veiin 
of  iktire  wnere  in  fu(5l  no  fatire  exifts,  where  it 
would  be  impoflible  that  there  fli:.uld  be  any ;  and 
disfigures  even  thofe  refpedable  truths  which  ther 
author  difclofes  in  the  fincerity  of  his  heart,  and 
for  which  every  jufl  and  honed  mind  will  fiiently 
thank  him. 

I'he  Prefident  Monti  fquieu  experienced  this 
treatment  at  Paris  in  the  meridian  of  his  fplendor  ; 
and  for  this  reafon  he  has  obferved  in  the  defence 
of  his  immortal  v/ork,  "  ll-e  Spirit  of  Lavjs^ — 
Nothing  ftifies  knowledge  more  than  covering  ev- 
ery thing  with  a  debtor's  robe  ;  for  the  men  who 
are  continually  teaching,  are  great  hindrances  to 
learning.  There  ie  no  genius  tnat  is  not  contract- 
ed, when  it  is  enveloped  in  a  million  of  vain  icru- 
ples.  Although  you  have  thei)eft  intentions  that 
were  ever  formed,  they  will  force  the  mind  to 
doubt  its  own  integrity.  "Ylw  can  no  longer  em- 
ploy your  endeavors  to  fpeak  or  to  write  with  pro- 
priety, when  you  are  perplexed  with  the  fear  of  ex»- 
prefling  yourlelf  ill-,  and  when  inftead  of  purfuing 
your  thoughts  you  are  only  bufy  in  felecting  fuch 
terms  as  may  efcape  the  fubtl-ty  of  the  critics* 
They  fecm  inclined  to  place  a  biggin  on  our  heads, 
and  to  warn  us  at  every  wcr  l,  Take  care  you  do  not 
fall*  You  vjould  fpeak  like  yourfelf  but  I  would  have  you 
fpeak  like  me.  If  you  attempt  to  foar,  they  pull  you 
by  the  Heave,  and  impede  your  ftight.  If  you 
write  with  hfeand  fpir-t,  they  infra  rly  deprive  y<'^u 
of  it.  If  you  rife  to  fome  height,  they  take  out 
their  rule  or  corapafs,  and  hfrl  :g  up  their  heads,  de- 
lire  you  to  come  down,  that  they  may  raeafure  you : 
and  in  runring  your  courfe,  they  advif:  you  to  take 
notice  of  all  the  impe^diments  which  the  ants  have 
raifed  in  your  way." 

Montefquieu  fays,    that  no  fcience  ncr  litera- 
ture is  proc>f  agaiiift  this  oedantry."   But,  did  he 
(XVI  2) 


1-86  V:2  Inf.iiracc  -/  SoMiiJe. 

liot  himfelf  refill  it  ?  Does  not  his  woi k  continne 
to  be  reprinted  ?  h  it  not  read  with  univerfal  ap- 

plaul'e  ? 

The  writer  who  knows  and  dares  to  paint  the 
characfters  of  men,  muft,  without  doubt,  wear  a  tri- 
ple Ihield  upon  his  breaft :  but,  cn  the  other  hand, 
there  is  uo  book  worth  reading  without  this  ftyle  of 
painting.  There  are  certairdy  truths  in  every  good 
work,  againft  which  the  indignation  of  thofe  who 
<ire  interefted  will  naturally  arife.  Why  do  the 
Englifh  fo  far  furpafs  us  in  their  fpecuhtions  upon 
mankind  ?  Why  do  we  appear  lb  puerile,  when 
compared  with  them,  or  with  the  Greek  and  Ro- 
man v.riters,  cn  every  fubje^t  that  refpecls  the  de- 
fcription  of  human  manners  ?  It  proceeds  from  the 
clamors  which  are  raifed  agaicft  every  author  who 
hazards  any  opinions  upon  the  philof  phy  of  life  for 
the  general  benefit  ^ mankind.  We  who  honor  in 
fo  high  a  degree  tllfccourage  of  the  warrior,  why, 
fike  effeminate  SybMtes,  do  the  foldings  of  a  rofe- 
hud  trouble  our  repcfe  ?  Why  do  we  vomit  forth 
injuries  againfc  that  civil  courage,  the  courage  with- 
out arms,  the  cfofne/Hcas  fortitudines  of  Cicero  ? 

It  is  falfe,  that  there  is  neither  heart  nor  fpirit 
except  in  republics  :  that  under  the  democratic  form 
of:  government  alone  people  may  ipeak  the  truth 
with  freedom  and  fafety,  and  he  who  thinks  well 
may  think  freely.  In  ariftocracies  efpecially,  and 
even  under  a  conflitutioa  much  more  free,  but 
v/here  a  fingle  demagogue  poffeffes  the  fcvereign 
power,  unhappily,  alas !  they  too  frequently  confi- 
der  common  fenfe  as  a  crime.  This  abfurdity  ren- 
ders the  mind  timid,  and,  of  courfe,  deprives  the 
people  of  all  their  liberty.  In  a  monarchy,  punifh- 
ment  is,  in  almoft  every  inftance,  prefcribed  by  the 
laws  of  juflice ;  but  in  republics  it  is  inflicted  by 
prejudice,  paflion  and  fiate-necefTit^^  Under  a  re- 
publican forni  of  government,  the  firli  maxim  pa- 
rents inculcate  into  the  minds  of  their  cfeildren  is. 


The  Influence  of  Suitudc-  '  1S7 

not  to  rcake  themfelves  enemie?.  To  t;.is  flige 
counfil*  I  remember  replying,  when  I  w.is  very 
young,  "  JNIy  dear  moth.r,  do  you  not  know,  thiit 
he  who  h:is  no  enemies  is  a  poor  man  T  e  citi- 
zen is,  in  many  republics,  under  the  aulhoriiy  and 
vigilant  eyes  of  mere  t.nn  an  huaJred  princes  ;  but 
a  monarch  is  the  fole  prince  on  v/hom  his  fubje^ts 
are  d.-pendent.  The  number  of  maft-irs  in  a  re- 
public crulhes  t!:e  fpirlt ;  but  in^a  mon  rchy,  love 
and  conliJence  in  one  abne,  raifes  ihe  fpirits  of  the 
happy  people.  In  every  country,  nowcver,  the  ra- 
*tionai  man,  who  renounces  all  tiie  ufelcfs  converfa- 
tions  of  the  world,  who  lives  a  life  of  Solitude,  and 
who,  fuperior  to  every  thing  that  he  lees,  lO  all  that 
he  hears,  forms  the  integrity  of  his  mind  in-^the 
tranqiiiiiity  of  retirement,  by  an  inttrrcourfe  with 
the  heroes  of  Greece,  of  Rome,  and  of  Great-Bri- 
tain, bys.  a  permanent  foundation  for  his  future 
character,  and  acquires  a  i^tle  ftyle  of  thinking, 
independent  of  the  caprices  qj^he  vulgar. 

THESE  are  the  obfervations  1  had  to  make 
refpe^t  ng  the  Iniiuence  of  Solitude  upon  the  Mind. 
Many  ot  them  are  perhaps  undigelled,  and  many 
more  are  certainly  not  weil  expreli'ed. 

Dear  and  virtuous  young  man,  i-nto  whofe 
hands  this  book  perchance  may  f  11,  receive  with 
kindnefs  and  affection  the  good  v/hich  it  contains, 
and  rejed  all  that  is  ccld  and  bad  ;  ail  that  does 
not  touch  and  penetrate  the  heart.  But  if  you 
thank  me  for  the  performance,  if  you  blefs  me,  if 
you  acknowledge  tnat  I  have  enlightened  your  mind, 
corrected  y  ur  manners,  and  tranquillized  y^our 
heart,  1  lhall  congratulate  myfelf  on  the  lincerity  of 
my  intentions,  and  think  ray  labors  richly  rewarded. 
If,  in  peruhng  it,  y^cu  hnd  yourielf  r.ble  to  jurtify 
your  inclination  for  a  wife  and  active  Solitude, 
your  averfion  from  th:le  focieties  wnich  only  ferve 
to  deflrov  time,  and  your  repugnance  to  employ 
vile  and  fhameful  nievins  iu  the  acquiiition  of  ricnes> 


i88 


The-  Influence  of  SolHude. 


I  ihall  afk  no  other  henedi£lion  for  ray  work.  If 
ycu  are  fearful  of  opeaing  ycur  lips  j  if  you  labor 
under  the  contiiunl  appreheniion  of  faying  fome- 
thir;g  that  n^.ay  be  confidered  ridiculous,  ia  the  un- 
derftandings  of  thofe  who  have  granted  to  them- 
lelves  the  monop  ly  of  wit  and  taite,  and  who,  by 
virtue  of  this  ufurpation,  go  about  uttering  the  great- 
eft  abfurdities — ah !.  then  think,  that  in  fuch  com- 
pany I  Ihoi  Id  be  ccnfidered  an  equal  blockhead 
with  yourfelf. 

The  fentiiiien^s  of  my  mind  and  the  feelings  of 
my  hsart  have  guided  me  in  every  thing  that  I  have 
Vfritten  upon  the  fubjetTr  of  Solitude,  it  was  this 
which  cccafi  ;ned  a  iatly  of  great  wit  to  ohfrrve,  on 
reading  the  two  firft  par:s  of  this  work,  that  I  fhould 
tmbofom  myfelf  upon  every  thirg  that  1  felt,  and 
Ihovild  lay  down  my  pen  the  moment  thofe  feelings 
were  exprefl'ed.  I  his  method  of  v/riting  has  cer- 
tainly produced  fa^s  which  a  iyftematic  philofo- 
phin-  would  not  hav^Pommitted.  But  1  fhall  con* 
fole  myfelf  for  thefe  errors,  if  this  chapter  affords 
only  a  jdimpre  of  the  advantage  of  Solitude  upoa 
the  minds,  the  undenlandings,  and  the  characters 
of  men  ;  and  that  whkh  follows  Ihail  excite  a  lively 
fjnfatioa  of  the  true,  noble,  and  fublirr.e  pleafures 
which  S:litude  produces  by  a  tranquil  and  affec- 
tiot  :ate  contemplation  of  nature,  and  by  an  exquifite 
ienlibility  fcr  every  tiling  that  is  good  and  fair. 


X^EACE  OF  MIND  is,  upon  the  earth,  the 
fupreme  good.  Simplicity  of  heart  will  procure  this 
invaluable  blelfing  to  the  wife  mortal  who,  reaoun- 


CHAP.  IV. 


The  Irifiuence  of  Solitude  iipm  the  Heart* 


The  Injluence  of  SolituJe,  189 

cing  the  noify  pleafures  of  the  world,  fets  bounds 
to  his  delires  and  inclin?.tions,  cheeriuily  fabmits 
himfelf  to  the  decrees  of  Heaven,  and,  viewing 
thofe  around  him  with  the  eye  of  charitable  indul- 
gence, feels  no  pleafures  more  delightful  than  thofe 
which  the  foft  murmur  of  a  dream  falling  in  caf- 
cades  from  the  fummit  of  recks,  the  refreihing 
breezrs  of  'he  young  zephyrs,  and  theuveet  accents 
of  the  wood-lmd  chaunters,are  capable  of  affording. 

How  refined  our  leniiments  become  when  the 
tempciis  of  lifo  have  fubfided  ;  when  thofe  misfor- 
tuurs  winch  caufed  our  alii  cli ens  have  varifhed  ; 
when  we  fee  ourfelvcs  furrounded  by  fritndfhip, 
peace,  fimplicity,  innocence,  repose  and  liberty  ! 

The  heart,  to  taite  the  charms  of  retirement, 
need  not  be  without  emotion.  O  !  who  would  not 
prefer  to  every  other  enjoyment  the  foft  melancho- 
ly whxh  Solitude  infpires  ?  AVlio  would  not  re- 
nounce the  univerfe  for  one  frngie  tear  of  love : 
The  heart  is  fufceptibh  of  tni^'  felicity,  when  it  has 
learned  to  admire  wirh  equah-pleafure  nature  in  its 
fublimeft  beau'ies,  and  in  the  mcdeft  flow\-r  which 
decorates  the  valley  ;  when  it  has  learned  to  enjoy, 
at  the  fame  tim?,  tliat  infinite  fyfiem,  that  miifcrin 
fucceirion  of  parts,  which  expands  the  fcul,  and 
thofi  delicious  derails  which  prefent  foft  and  plea- 
f.ait  images  to  the  mind,  'i'hefe  pleafures  are  not 
exclufively  referved  icr  firorg,  energetic  minds, 
wh  fe  fenfations  are  as  lively  as  tliey  are  delicate, 
and  upon  whom,  for  that  reafon,  good  2nd  bad 
make  an  equal  impreffion.  The  pureii  hrppinef-^, 
the  mcft  enchanting  tranquillity,  are  alfo  wilhin  the 
reach  of  men  whole  tem.p.rament  is  ccid  ;  who,  en- 
dowed with  imagmat  ions  lefs  bold  and  lively,  al- 
ways perceive  f^^mething  exiravagapt  in  the  energet- 
ic exprellion  of  a  ftill  more  energetic  fe.dation  :  in 
the  pi^lures,  therefore,  whirh  are  prt fenced  to  the 
eye  cf  luch  characters,  the  coloring  mult  n:t  be 
high,  nor  the  teints  too  lh::rp ;  kr^  as  ihe  bad  firikes 


ti^o  Vr-e  Influaice  of  M'ltude, 

them  I  fs,  r?  silfo  they  are  iefs  fufceptibie  of  the  live- 
lier enjoyments. 

I'h.e  heart  owes  the  mofi  agreeable  enjoymen(.S' 
U'hich  it  derives  from  Solitude  to  the  imagination. 
The  touching  afip^^f  of  delightful  nature;  the  vari- 
egated verdure  of  the  forejfs ;  the  noife  of  an  im- 
petuous torrent ;  the  quivering  motion  of  the  foh- 
age  ;  the  harmony  of  the  groves,  and  an  extenfiva  | 
profpeft,  raviih  the  foul  ib  entirely,  and  abibrb  in' 
fucha  manner  all  ourfacuhies,  that  the  thoughts  of 
the  mind  are  inftantly  converted  into  fenf^.tions  of 
the  heart.  The  view  of  an  agreeable  landfcape  ex- 
cites the  foftcft  emotions,  and  gives  birth  to  pLafmg 
and  virtuous  f^nt'.nents :  all  this  is  produced  by  the 
cnarnis  of  im:^ginaticn. 

'1  he  imagination  fprer.ds  a  touching  r^nd  feduc- 
tive  charm"  over  every  objeft,  provided  we  are  fur- 
rounded  by  freedom  and  tranquillity.  O !  how 
eafy  it  is  to  renounce  n  .ify  pleafures  and  tumultu- 
ous afiembhes  f  jr  the  enjoyment  of  that  philof  :phic 
melancholy  which  Solitude  infpircs !  A  rehgious 
horror  and  fofc  raptures  are  alternately  excited  by 
the  deep  gloom,  of  iorcfts,  by  the  tremendous  height 
of  broken  recks,  and  by  the  multiplicity  of  fublime 
aiid  majef-  ic  cbjec'ts  vs^hicli  prefent  themfelves  to  cur 
viev/  0.1  the  ccl'ghtfal  icite  of  a  fniiling  landfcape, 
']licre  cu-cno  leiiiLiti  i  s,  however  pcinful,  which  are 
not  va;:quifhed  by  thele  ferious  but  agree ible  emo- 
fions,  and  by  thofe  roft  reveries  to  w'hich  the  fur- 
rcui;di]ig  tranquilluy  invites  the  miind.  The  Soli- 
tude of  mir;^inc  nt  and  the  awful  fil  T.ce  of  all  nature 
iiTiprefs  an  idea  cf  the  happy  contrafi  between  fim- 
plicity  and  grandeur.  Our  feclirgs  become  more 
exquiii'e,  and  our  admiiation  more  livtl]^,  in  pr(> 
pordon  to  the  pleafures  we  receive. 

I  had  been,  during  the  couHe  of  many  years, 
fj.mihar  with  the  fubiimeit  appearances  of  nature, 
when  1  fiWj^'or  the  liril  tin  e,  a  g;:rden  cultivated 
'^a  the  Englifh  talte  near  Kanover  \  aiid  foon  after. 


The  InfMenee  <f.Ec!ltuek\  191 

tvarcis  I  beheld  one  in  the  fame  ityb,  but  on  a  much 
Iiirger  fcale,  zt  xMancnwerJcr,  about  the  diliaiice 
cf  a  league  from  the  former.  I  was  not  then  ap- 
prifed  of  the  extent  of  that  art  which  fpcrts  with 
the  m.oft  ungrateful  fjil,  and,  by  a  new  fpecies  of 
creLUion,  converrs  even  barren,  fandy  mountains 
into  fertile  and  fmiling  landicipes.  This  magic  art 
makes  an  altonifhing  imprefhon  on  the  mind ;  it 
excites  in  every  heart,  not  yet  infenfible  to  the  de- 
lightful charms  of  cultivated  nature,  all  the  pleafures 
wnich  Solitude,  rur^l  repofe,  and  a  feclufion  from 
the  haunts  of  men,  can  procure.  I  cannot  recollecl: 
a  fmgle  day  during  the  early  part  of  my  refidence  at 
Hanover,  without  tears  of  gratitude  and  joy.  Tom 
from  tbcbofom  of  my  ccimtry,  from  the  embraces 
of  my  family,  and  driven  from  everything  that  I 
held  dear  in  life,  m.y  mina  was  not  fulceptible  of 
any  ether  fentiments  than  thofe  of  the  deepeft  mel- 
ancholy. But  when  I  entered  into  the  little  garden 
of  my  late  friend  M.  de  liinnber,  near  Hanover, 
I  forgot  for  the  moment,  both  my  country  and  my 
grief. 

The  charm  was  new  to  my  mind.  I  was  not 
then  apprifed  that  it  was  pcflible  upon  fo  fmall  a 
fcale,  to  imitate  the  enchanting  variety  and  the  iio- 
ble  fimplicity  of  nature,  l  was  not  till  then  con- 
vinced that  her  afpefl:  alone  was  fufficient,  at  the 
iirlt  viev/,  to  obliterate  all  the  opprefTion  of  the 
world,  to  excite  in  our  breafts  the  pur  eft  luxury,  to 
fill  our  minds  v/ith  every  fentiment  that  can  create 
a  fondnels  for  life.  1  flill  blefs  the  hour  when  I  fnib 
learned  this  fecret. 

This  new  re-union  of  art  and  nature,  which 
was  invented  not  in  China  but  in  England^  is  found- 
ed upon  a  refined  tafte  for  the  beauties  of  nature, 
confirmed  by  experience,  imd  by  the  fentiments 
which  a  chafte  fancy  reflects  upon  a  fieling  heart. 
Hirchfeld,  the  great  painter  of  nature,  an  amiable 
and  fenCble  philofopher,  the  firil  German  who  by 


1-9^  The  Influence  of  SoiiiiiM'  1 

his  admirable  theories  introduced  among  us  a  know- 
ledge  of  gardening,  is  become,  by  conferring  this 
knowledge,  one  of  the  greateil  benefactors  to  his 
country. 

There  are,  without  doubt,  many  German-Eng- 
liih  gardens  fo  whimfically  and  ridiculoufly  laid  out, 
that  they  only  excite  emotions  of  pity  and  contempt, 
"Who  can  forbear  laughing  to  (ee  fcrefts  cf  popLir- 
trees  fcarcely  large  enough  to  wr.rm  a  chamber-fcove 
for  a  week ;  mole-hills  which  they  call  mountains  ; 
mecageries  of  tame  and  favage  animals,  birds  and 
smphibious  -creatures,  grinning  in  native  grandeur 
upon  tin  ;  bridges  without  number  acrofs  a  river 
which  a  couple  of  ducks  would  drink  dry  ;  wooden 
fifties  fwimming  in  canals  whic'i  the  pump  every 
ni'-rning  fuppiies  with  water  ?  All  this  is  certairJv 
ilili  leis  natur:^!  than  the  pitiful  tafte  of  our  ancef- 
t  :rs.  But  if  on  the  contrary,  in  the  garden  of  M. 
Hi;iuber,  at  Markmverder^  every  lo jk  elevates  my 
Ibul  towT.rd.s  God,  if  every  point  of  view  affords  lo 
the  eye  iubiime  repofe  ;  if  on  every  bank  I  difcov- 
er  fcenes  ever  fm'.iing  and  ever  new  ;  if  my  heart 
feels  relief  from  the  aipecl:  of  this  enchanting  place, 
ihall  I  amufe  myfeif  by  difcuiliDg,  whether  what  I 
fee  might  have  been  dene  ia  a  diilerent  way.  and 
permit  the  inlipid  pleafantries  of  cold  and  taftelefs 
mailers  to  diminifh  my  pkafures  ?  Scenes  of  ferefii- 
ty,  whether  created  by  tafteful  art  or  the  hand  of 
nature,  always  convey  IranquiUity  to  the  heart ;  a 
kindnefs  which  it  owes  to  the  imagination.  If  a  foft 
lilence  breathes  around,  and  every  object  is  plea- 
lant  to  m.y  view  ;  if  rural  fcenes  abforb  all  my  at- 
tention, and  dilTipate  the  grief  th?.t  lies  heavy  on 
ray  heart ;  if  the  lovelinefs  of  Solitude  enchants 
me,  and  gradually  fubdiiing  my  foul,  leaves  it  full 
of  benevolence,  love  and  content ;  I  ought  to  thank 
God  for  thofe  powtrs^  of  im?ginatioa  which,  aU 
thou;^;h  it  has  in:^.eed  frequently  caufed  the  trouble 
of  ci'y  life,  has  ahvays  led  me  to  fame  frien/dJy  rock, 


Ths  Influence  of  Miiude,  l-i^3 

Upon  wliic.h  I  c.^ul  J  hang  while  I  contemplated  with 
greater  compofurc  the  tempeiis  I  had  efcaped.* 

A  celebrated  Englifh  writer  has  iird,  that 
"  Solitude,  01.1  the  firll  view  of  it,  infplres  the  mind 
witii  terror,  hec^  ufe  every  thing  that  brings  with 
it  the  idea  of  privation,  is  terrific,  and  therefore 
fiiblime,  like  fpace,  darknefs  and  filence."  In 
Swilieriand,  and  efpeciaily  near  the  Canton  of 
Bt-rn-/,  the  Alps  have  st  a  dillance  an  atlonifhing 
grandeur  of  appec ranee  ;  but  viewed  nearer,  tliei' 
infpire  images  terrilic  and  fnbhme.  That  (pecies  qI 
grandeur  which  accompanies  the  idea  of  iniinity, 
charms  the  eye  when  feen  at  a  proper  diiianceo 
The  heart  feels  nothii-g  but  rarifhment,  v/hile  the 
eye  ohferves  from  afar  the  uninterrupted  chain  of 
t'^efe  immenle  mcur-t?dns,  ihefe  enormous  malies 
nfing  one  above  the  other.  1  he  llicceiTion  of  ibft 
and  lively  l^ades  tampers  the  inipreffion,  and  gives 
to  thi?  prod'giou?.  wall  of  r^cks,  more  of  the  agree- 
able than  the  fubiime.  On  the  contrary,  a  mind  of 
fenfibility  cannot  take  a  near  view  of  thefe  moun- 
tains, without  feeling  an  involuntary  trembling, 
llie  eye  looks  with  fear  on  their  eternal  fnov/s, 
their  {teep  r-eicents,  their  obfcure  caverns,  the  tor- 
rents which  precipitate  themfelves  with  refcunding 
ncife  over-  their  lummits,  forming  innumerable  caf- 
cades,  the  dark  forefts  of  fir  v/ith  whirh  their  fides 
are  overcharged,  and  the  enormous  fragments  of 
rocks  wh'.c'.i  the  tem.pefts  have  detached  from  their 
foundations  during  the  courie  of  time.    How  my 

*  A  Frcnch  writer  has  embcHi/lied  this  idea  with  all  the  riches  of 
eloquence.  "  There  is  no  mind  of  lenfibility  vvliich  has  not  tafted  in 
the  rctjeats  of  SoliLUde  thole  delicicus  moments  when  man,  flying  ncni 
the  delufions  of  falfehood,  enters  into  his  own  heart  to  feck  the  Iparks 
of  truth  !  What  pleafuie,  after  having  been  tofled  dur'mg  many  yeais 
on  the  fea  of  life,  to  climb  fome  friendiy  rock,  and  rclk-ct  in  pesce  and 
fafety  on  the  tcmpcft  and  fliipwrecks  which  cnfued  !  Happy  the  man 
who  can  then  forj:et  the  idle  prejudices  which  occupy  the  mind:  ihs 
miferies  of  humanity  vanifli  from  his  fight ;  augull'truth  fills  his  bo- 
fom  with  the  purell:  joys.  _  it  is  only  in  Chtfe  moments,  and  in  thole; 
which  precede  the  dilTolution  ofoui  mortal  frame,  that  man  can  lea:ji 
w*vat  he  is  upon  this  earth,  and  what  this  ear  tli  to  him." 

(XVIi) 


194  '  The  Injluence  of  Solitude. 

heart  beat,  when  for  the  time,  I  climbed  through 
a  Heep  and  narrow  path  upon  tliofe  fublime  de- 
farts,  continually^  difcovering  new  mountains  riling 
over  my  head,  while  upon  the  leaft  fi umble  death 
menaced  me  in  a  thcuiand  difierent  ftiapcs  bebw  ! 
But  imagination  loon  begins  to  kindle,  when  you 
perceive  youriblf  al:.T.e  in  tiie  midll  of  all  this  gran- 
deur of  nature,  and  reflect  from  thefe  lieights  on 
the  ncthingneis  of  human  power,  and  the  wcaknefs* 
of  the  greatefl  Monarch s  I 

The  liiftory  of  the  Swifs  evinces  that  the  in- 
habitants cf  thefe  mountains  zvi  no:  men  of  a  de- 
generate cart,  but  that  their  fentiments  are  elevated, 
and  their  feelings  warm,  Their  boldnefc  and  in- 
trepidity are  inoate ;  the  fphat  of  liberty  gives  wings 
10  their  f:uls ;  and  they  trample  tyranny  and  ty- 
rants under  iheirfeet-  But  L'::e  fpirit  of  i'bcrty  is 
only  to  be  found  in  its  genuine  rtiinement  among 
the  Alps ;  for  all  the  Sv/ifs  are  not  in  reality  free, 
although  they  have  notions  of  liberty,  I  ve  their 
country,  aed  return  their  thanks  to  die  Aimij^hty 
for  that  happy  peace  which  permits  each  ii 'dividual 
to  Hve  quietly  under  his  vine,  and  to  enjoy  the  (hade 
of  his  fig-tree. 

The  Abs  in  SwiiTerland  are  inhabited  by  a 
race  of  men,  fomefimes  UDfocichlc,  but  always  good 
and  generous.  1  he  feverity  cf  ^helr  climat*  ren- 
ders them  hardv  and  robufl,  v  hile  their  paftcnd 
life  adds  foftnefs  to  their  charaderc  Am  Englilii- 
man  has  faid,  that  he  who  never  heard  ti.under  ia 
the  Alps,  cannot  conceive  any  idea  of  the  continui- 
ty of  the  lightning,  the  rollicV  and  the  burif  of  the 
thunder  which  rorrs  round  the  h:rizon  cf  theleim- 
menfe  mountains.  Ihe  inhabitants  of  the  Alps 
thereforey  who  have  never  fecn  better  hcufts  than 
their  own  cabins,  or  any  other  countiw  than  their 
native  rocks,  conceive  every  part  cf  tl^e  univerle  to 
be  fcnned  of  the  lame  rough  materials,  and  a  fcene 
of  unceafmg  teinpeiis.   But  Heaven  n  notahvays 


The  hijliisnce  of  Solitude,  195 

threatening ;  the  lightning  does  not  continually  fladi 
upon  their  eyes ;  iiiimediatdy  after  the  moft  dread- 
fill  tempefts,'  the  hemilphere  clears  itfelf  by  flow  de- 
grees, and  becomes  (erene.  The  heads  snd  hearts 
of  the  Swifs  are  of  a  fimilar  nature  ;  kindnefs  fuc- 
ceeds  10  anp;er5  and  geiierofity  to  tlie  moft  brutal 
fury ;  which  might  be  eaiiiy  proved,  uot  only  from 
the  records  of  hilt  cry,  but  from  recent  facfs.  One 
6)f  the  inhabitanfs  oF  thefe  fiupendous  mountains. 
General  de  Redin,  born  in  the  Canton  of  Schwitz, 
v/as  enrolled  very  early  in  life  in  the  Swifs  guards,, 
and  had  attained  the  ftation  of  Lieutenant-General ; 
hut  his  long  retidence  at  Paris  and  Verfailles  had 
not  in  any  degree  altered  his  character  ;  and  he  con- 
linued  through  life  a  Swifs.  I'he  orders  ifTued  by 
the  Court  of  Verlaiiies  in  the  year  1764,  for  the 
regulation  of  the  Swiis  who  were  in  the  iervice  ci^ 
that  Courr,  occafioned  great  difccntents  in  the  Can- 
ton cf  Schwitz.  The  cidzens  confivkred  this  in- 
novation as  extremely  prejudicial  to  the:r  ancient' 
privileges,  and  they  threw  the  blame  of  this  mea- 
lure  upon  General  Redin.  At  this  crifis  the  w^ife 
of  the  General,  who  rcfi,ied  on  his  e{l:ate,  was  ex- 
eriir.g  all  h^r  interefl  to  raifs  recruits;  but  the 
ibund  of  the  Frencn  drain  was  become  clilVuiling 
to  the  ears  cf  the  citizens  of  t^.e  Canton,  and  they 
fa V/ with  indig  ::itiou  the  whlie  cockaik  placed  in  the 
hits  of  the  deluded  peafants.  The  Magiurate,  ap- 
prehanfive  thit  this  fermentation  might  ultimateiy 
Cc'^ufe  foaie  infarre^lion  am  ^ng  ti  e  psople,  thought 
it  his  dufy  to  prohibit  Madame  de  Redin  from  con- 
tinuiiig  to  raiie  her  levies.  The  lady  required  him 
to  give  a  certiacate  in  writing  of  this  prohibition  ; 
but  the  Magi  [Irate  v/as  not  at  that  moment  inclined 
to  a6t  with  tais  fp'rit  againii  the  intereft  of  Franf'^ ; 
:\nd  the  wife  of  the  General  continued  to  ralfe  her 
recruits.  This  bold  meafure  irritated  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  C  -mton  ;  they  fummoned  a  General  Di- 
and  IMadaiue  dc  Redin  appeared  bifare  the 


19^  The  Injluencc  of  SolHt'Je, 

I'cur  Thoudind.  The  drum,"  faid  ilie,  "  fh-M 
oever  ceafe  to  beat,  until  you  give  mea  certihcate 
\yh'cb  may  jullify  my  hiilband  to  the  court  of 
I'V^mce  for  not  coaipleiiiig  ^.he  number  of  his  mer-/' 
'i  !:ey  granted  her  the  certiiiaite  ihe  demanded,  and 
the  General  was  at  the  fame  liiT:e  enjoined  to  uie 
his  int/r'-'i:  at  the  Court  of  France  for  the  fervice 
of  hh  country.  Theie  i:::ea(ures  being  adopted, 
the  Canton  waiied  in  anxious  expectation  of  receiv^ 
ing  iatisf.iccory  accounts  from  Paris  ;  but  unhap- 
pily very  dilTatisfac't^ry  accounts  :irrived.  The 
fedingo  of  tre  inhabitants  were  irritated  beyond 
reiiraint;  and  thofe  who  were  poileiTrd  of  credit 
and  authority  publicly  maintained  that  the  new  reg-. 
uladon  endangered  both  their  liberties  and  their  re- 
ligion. The  general  difcontent  was  iniiantly  con- 
verted mto  univerfal  fury.  'J lie  Diet  was  again  af- 
fenibled,  and  it  was  publicly  refolved  not  to  furniih 
the  Kirig  of  France  with  any  troops  hereafie:-.  The 
treaty  cf  aiiiaace  in  1713,  was  torn  ft'oni  the  ar- 
chives of  the  country,  and  General  Red  in  was  or- 
c'ered  to  return  im.mediatcly  with  the  foidiers  under 
his  cnimand,  uuc.n  pain  gf  perpetual  ex'le.  Red- 
m  obtained  t".e  King's  leave  of  abierice  for  himfelf 
and  his  regiment ;  and  they  returned  to  thc-ir  own 
country.  The  General  entered  Schv/itz,  the  me- 
tropolis nf  the  Canton,  at  the  head  of  of  his  troops, 
with  drums  beatin^^  and  colctirs  fiyirg.  They 
in  arched;  vC  wards  tie  church;  Redin  placed  the 
colors  bv  the  tide  cf  the  great  altar,  fell  upon  his 
k^ee^-j  and  cllered  up  his  thanks  to  God.  He  then 
tihcharged  to  his  ioldic  rs  the  ::rrrar3  of  their  pay, 
gave  them  their  accoutrements  and  cL.the;^,  and 
w  ith  tears  in  his  evcs,  wilih  they  wept  around  hiiu, 
tQok  his  leave.  The  fury  of  the  populace  feenied 
to  isicreale,  when  they  found  thcmielves  in  pcilef- 
iioa  of  a  n.an  whom  they  confiderc-d  as  a  perfidious 
wretcn,  a  traitor  who  had  favored  the  nev/  regula- 
tions at  the  court  of  Veriailks^  and  who  had  con- 


Vie  IhjTuence  of  SoBudf.  197^ 

l^ireJ  to  give  a  mortal  blow  to  the  interefls  of  h  is 
country.    The  General  Diet  alTembled,  and  Red  hi 
was  fummoned  to  difclofe  the  manner  in  wliich  thefe 
new  rt  f^ulations  had  palled,  in  order  that  they  might 
know  the  terms  €n  which  they  iiood  with  trance,,, 
and  learn  the  degree  of  offence  the  traitor  had  com- 
mit tcxl,  lb  that  they  might  afterwards  .8;rant  him  a 
pardon  or  apportion  his  punifhment.    Redin,  per- 
fectly '^ware  that  under  the  real  circumflances  of 
the  cafe,  eloquence  would  be  vainly  exerted  againfi; 
minds  heated"  in  the  caufe,  contented  himfelf  with 
laying  roughly,  and  in  few  words,  that  all  the  world 
knew  the  manner  in  which  things  had  paffed,  and' 
that  he  was  as  innocent  with  regard  to  the  new  reg- 
ulations as  he  was  of  his  difmiflion.   "  The  traitor 
then  will  not  confefs  1"  exclaimed  the  mcft  furious 
of  the  mem.bers ;  "  hang  him  on  the  next  tree — cut 
hi m^  to  pieces.*'   Thefe  menaces  were  inftantly  re- 
peated by  the  whole  AlTembly  ;  Redin,  however, 
continued  perfeclly  tranquil.    A  troop  of  furious 
peafants  mounted  tlie  roftrum,  while  Redin  ftood 
by  the  fide  of  the  Magillrate-s.    It  was  at  this  time 
r::in:ng.    A  young  man,  the  gcd-fon  of  Redin,  held 
a  pLiraphne  over  his  head.  One  of  the  enraged  mul- 
titude with  a  blow  of  his  flick  broke  the  paraphtia 
to  pieces,  exclaiming,  "  let  the  villain  be  uncover- 
ed." Rage  fwelied  the  hofom  of  the  youth.  ''Ah! 
ah     fiid  he,  "  I  did  not  know  that  my  god-fath- 
er had  betrayed  bis  country ;  but  fmce  it  is  fo, 
bring  me  a  cord  this  moment,  that  1  may  ftrangle 
him.''   The  Members  of  the  Council  formed  a  cir- 
cle round  the  General,  and  entreated  him  with  up- 
lifted hands  to  think  of  his  danger ;  to  confefs  that 
he  had  not  pcrhapc  cppofed  the  regulation  v/ith 
proper  vehemence ;  and  to  offer  the  facrifice  of  his; 
whole  fcriune  as  a  reparation  for  the  offence  he  had: 
committed,  ori  condition  that  they  would  fpare  his 
life.    Redin  walked  out  of  the  circle  with  a  grave 
and  tranquil  air,  and  made  the  fign  cf  iilence  with 
(SYil  2) 


J-;&  Tbe-^Infuiencd  of  Soikuri'.  j 

his  band.  Ihe  v/hole  AiTembly  wiu'ed  wi'h  impji- 
ticnce  to  hear  the  Geueral  ccnfL-fs ;  unci  the  >:,rcater 
iiiuiiber  of  the  memhers  llutered  him  with  ihe  hcpes. 
ci'  p'u-don.  My  dear  coiintrymer,"  laid  the  Gen- 
( rai,  "  you  are  nor.  ignorant  that  I  have  fei  ved  tlje 
King  of  France  twc-and- forty  y-ars.  You  know. 
End  many  among  ycu  who  were  witli  m.^  in  t'iia 
fervice  can  bear  witnefs  of  i'S  truth,  how  frequeut- 
iy  I  have  appeared  in  the  face  cf  the  enemy,  and 
the  manner  in  which  I  have  ccnducLd  myielf  in  fev- 
eral  l)attles.  I  confidered  every  engageir.ent  as  the 
lad  day  cf  my  Utb.  But  here  1  proteil,  in  the  pre- 
icnce  of  Ahnighty  God,  who  knows  all  hearts, 
v/ho  hilens  to  my  words,  v/ho  is  to  judge  us  all, 
that  I  never  appeared  before  the  enemy  with  a  ccn- 
fcience  fo  tranquil,  pure  and  innocent ;  and  am  rea- 
dy at  this  inftant  to  yield  up  n^y  Rfe,^  if  you  thinlc 
proper  to  condemn  me  for  net  cenfeiilng  an  inlidci- 
ity  of  which  I  have  n::t  been  gu'ky." 

The  dign'ty  with  wTach  t'  e  Gener.  i  delivered 
this  declaration,  and  the  rays  cf  truth  which  b:am- 
ed  upon  his  countenance,  c^^lmed  the  fury  of  the 
Ailembly,  ar;d  he  was  ikvcd.  But  Redii>-and  his 
wife  ibon  afierwards  quitted  th.e  Canton.  S;;e  en- 
tered into  a  reiigicus  convent  at  IJii,  and  he  retired 
into  a  deep  cavern  ^mong  the  roci^s,  where  he  lived 
two  years  in  Sontude.  The  fury  of  his  conniry- 
men/howevo,  at  length  lu]:jided  ;  he  retarnecl  to 
the  Canton,  and  rewarded  their  i:  gratitu ne  by  ^he 
nio-'L  f'gnai  iervices.  Every  iu'/i^baial  then  rcrcea- 
•ccLid  the  integrity  and  m::gaanimily  of  the  Gene- 
ra! ■  ;  and  to  c::  r?iptnla:e  the  injuries  and  injuilice  he 
nad  received^  ihcv  elecled  h'm  B.iih,  (;r  hrd:  officer 
of  the  Canton  :  nay,  what  very  rarely  happen?, 
ihev  afterv/pj'ds  e".  cted  hrm  thr^e  times  iacodhvely 
lathis  impor'ant  dignity. 

Tais  is  the  char^cteriilic  difpefition  of  the  pec- 
r]2  who  inhabit  the  Alps  of  Swiikrland  ;  alteraate- 
:vi]bid  and  "ioknt  j  ibllo wing  iia  the  extreme  the 


7hc  Influence  (f  Sc i/t i(..'c\  1 9 9 

ditl:ute8  of  a  bold  and  l-vely  imagination.  Their 
pallioiis  and  ali'eftions  experience  the  Tvime  vicilli- 
tudes  as  their  dimnte.  But  I  candidly  acknow- 
ledge, that  I  would  ra'her  live  in  Solitude  amon^^ 
the  rocks  of  Uri,  than  be  perpetual  B?illi  in  the 
Canton  of  Sch\vi:z. 

Tr.e  continual  view  of  the  fublime  defarts  of 
the  i\lps  may  pernaps  contribute  to  render  the  Swifs 
rudv?  and  unpoliihcd  ;  but,  as  in  every  hiriilar  fixa- 
tion, their  hearts  are  improved  in  kindnefs  and  good 
rature  by  the  trar:qu"llity  of  their  fields,  and  the 
i'miling  Ixauty  of  the  fceoery  by  which  they  are 
furrounded.  'The  Englifh  artifts  a-c.knowledge',  that 
the  face  of  nature  in  SwiHeiiand  is  too  fublime  and 
too  majef:ic  for  the  pencil  to  render  a  iaitiiful  re» 
preu?Btation  of  it.  But  vvhat  exquifite  enjcyaisnts 
mul^:  they  not  experience  upon  thcfe  romantic  hills^ 
to  thcfe  agreeable  vaiiies,  up:n  the  happy  borders 
cf  thcfe  11:111  and  traniparent  f;kes  Aa  !  it  is  there 
that  nature  may  be  clcfily  examined :  it  is  there 
that  (he  appears  in  her  higheft  pomp  and  fplendcr. 
If  the  viev/  of  the  oak,  the  elm,  the  dark  firs  which 
p;opla  thefe  immenfe  tor€fl:s,  canvey  no  plealures ; 

*  How  1  bve  to  read  In  the  Let'era  upon  Swii^erbnd  by  the  pro- 
fefTor  Msineis*  with  wh-it  amiable  fer.ribUity  that  phi!ofoi>;>er  Teated 
isimfelf  upon  tlie  banks  of  the  Lake  of  Bi;';,  and  quietly  rchgned  him- 
iVjfto  all  the  cnioticns  of  his  feu)  1 — "*  \\  hen  1  am  fatigued,"  fays  M, 
W?iners  to  one*)f  his  friends  at  Gottingen,  and  it  pleales  my  fancy  to 
conndrr  raore  alccntively  the  feveral  objedls  which  lurround  me,  1  feat 
myfelf  upon  the  firft  banFc,  or  the  wall  of  a  vine  under  v.h'ch  people 
continually  Difs.  1  never indulg«  this  difpoiuion,  without  experien- 
cing an  iQexpreffibie  tranv-iuillity.  The  laft  time,  it  wsrs  about  fix 
o'cioc!-:,  while  the  fun  was  finking  behind  ths  rid^e  of  Jura.  The  daik 
green  firs  which  grow  almoft  alone  to  a  certain  height  on  the  moun- 
tain ;  the  oaks  of  a  brightep  verduie  which  fucceed  them  ;  the  vines 
ftili  livelier  in  tlieir  teints,  in  the  middle  of  which  ]  v.as  feated  j  and 
a  confiderab'e  portion  of  the  lake,  which  by  that  means  appeared  more 
exceofive,  was  in  the  ihade,  whiie  the  other  part  of  the  lake,  the  oppo- 
f.te  more,  Biel  .nd  Nidaw,  and  the  tops  of  the  Glaciers,  were  flill 
brightened  by  theiaft  rays  of  the  fun  :  'selow,  the  bleating  of  the  fiocks 
tranmorted  me  in  idea  to  the  fmiiine  plains  of  Arcadia  ^ba^e,  I 
heard  the  humor"  peafint?,  and  of  hihermen  whofe  boats  I  could  fcarce 
difcover;  with  the  aSeCting  murnaur  of  the  lake,  gently  i oiiing^  its 
waves  againft  the. recks  which  orex-hang  its  bai-k../' 


200  The  Inpiience  of  Solitude, 

if  the  {:ght  of  thefe  majeftic  tre:s  excites  no  pleafiii^ 
emotivon  in  your  mind,  there  Hill  remain  the  myrtle 
of  Venus,  the  almond-tree,  the  jeffamine,  the  pome- 
granate, and  th-'ie  eininencej  covered  v/ith  luxuri- 
ous viaes.  Rcflee^,  that  in  no  country  cf  the  globe 
nature  is  more  rich  and  variegated  in  her  appear- 
ances than  in  Svv'iflerland,  and  that  it  was  the  land- 
fcape  and  the  lake  of  Zurich,  v/hich  infpired  the 
Idyls  of  the  imr;ior;al  Geiher,  the  niofc  agreeable  of 
all  the  poets  cf  nature. 

Thefe  fablime  beauties  raife  and  fire  the  heart ; 
and  operate  upon  the  imagination  in  a  much  mora 
lively  manner  than  even  more  agreeable  fcenes  ;  as 
a  fine  niii:ht  afF:rds  a  mere  auguli:  and  folemn  fpec- 
tacle  than  the  fined  d-^y.  1^  coming  from  Frelcari, 
by  the  fi  Je  of  the  fmali  l  ike  of  Nemi,  which  lies  in 
a  deep  valley  i  j  inclofed  b^y  mountains  and  fcrefts 
that  the  winds  never  agitate  its  quiet  iurface^  it  is 
impoilible  not  io  exclaim  Vv^ii h  the  Englifn  poet^  that 
here— 

^lack  melaaclioly  fit?,  and  ronnd  her  throws 
A  der.th-i:ke  fjence  and  a  dread  repofe  ; 
KergJoomy  prefence  I'addens  ail  the  fcene. 
Shades  every  riower,  zv.'*  darkens  every  green 
Deepens  the  murmur  of  rhe  falling  Hoods, 
And  breathes  a  browner  horror  on  the  woods." 

Pope's  Eloifa  to  AL?Iard». 

While  the  foul  expands,  and  the  mind  becomes 
ferene  and  free,  you  fuddenly  difcover  from  the 
,'garden  of  the  Capuchins  near  Albaao,  the  Uttle  me- 
lancholy i.;ke  with  all  the  mountains  and  forefcs 
which  furround  it,  the  caflle  of  Gandolpho,  with 
Frefcati  and  all  its  rural  villas  on  one  fide  ;  on  the 
other,  the  handfome  city  of  Alb? no,  the  village  and 
caflle  of  Riccia  and  Genfano,  with  their  hills  deck- 
ed with  vine-leaves  ;  bel:AV,  the  extetiiive  plains  of 
Campani in  the  middle  of  which,  Rome,  formerly 
the  miitreis  of  the  univerfe,  raifes  its  majefdc  head  ; 
and  laftly,  beyond  ail  thde  obje^ls,  the  hills  of 


The  Influence  of  Solitude,  2oi 

TivcU,'the  Apemuncs,  and  the  Mediterrar^ea-A  fea.* 
Thus  the  view  fublime  or  beautiful  objecls  dif- 
ferently alievfls  the  hevqr^  :  the  fubiiire  excite  fear 
and  terror  ;  the  b??,ut!fiil  create  cniy  foftand  agree- 
able {enfations  :  but  both  of  them  enlarge  and  ag- 
grandize the  fplwe  of  the  iiniigjinadon,  and  enable 
us  more  fatisf.-.dorily  to  feek  cnj  3yii:euts  withui 
eurfelves. 

To  experience  thefe  pleafurcS,  hov.'ever,  it  is 
not  ncCcffary  to  f-rek  the  folitiry  retavments  of 
Swiilerland  and  Italy.  There  is  no  perlbn  who 
may  not,  by  quietly  traverfii:g  the  moimtains  with 
h:s  gun,  and  without  rui.nirig  after  p?etic  iff  ages, 
like  Kieid,!  leara  to  ftel  how  inuch  the  great  fcen^ 
of  nature  will  influence  the  heart,  when  ailiiled  by 
the  powers  of  im?.ginaUon.  llie  l^r  t  of  an  agreea- 
ble landicape,  the  various  points  of  vie  v  which  the 
fpacious  plains  afford,  the  frefhnefs  of  the  zephyrs, 
the  beauty  of  the  fi^y,  and  the  appetite  which  a  long 
chace  procures,  will  give  feelings  of  health,  and 
make  every  flep  ieein  too  fhort.  The  privation  of 
every  obiecl  that  can  rec:iU  the  idea  of  dependence,. 
accoTipanicd  by  domefli:  comfort,  healthful  exer- 
cife,  and  ufeful  accupations,  will  add  vigor  to 
thought,  give  warmth  to  imagination,  prefent  the 
moil  agreeable  and  fmiliiig  images  to  the  mind,  and 
inebriate  the  heart  v/ith  the  mofl  delicious  fenfation?. 
A, man  with  a  fi'ie  imiigination  would  be  more  hap- 
py in  a  dark  prifon,  than  without  imagination  amid 
the  moll  ma^fuificent  fee  lery.  But  even  to  a  mind 
deprived  of  this  happy  faculty,  the  tranquillity  of 
rural  life,  and  the  views  of  harveli,  will  alone  per- 


*  A  German  lady,  who  poilefies  a  very  lively  imagination,  under- 
took a  voyage  to  Italy  for  the  re-ertabliAment  of  her  health.  Her 
flrength  increifetl  day  after  (iay.  When  fhe  found  herfeif  on  the  Jch^ 
of  Albino  above  deici-'bed,  (he  endeavored  to  exprefs  to  her  compan- 
ions tivi  emotions  wh'ich  the  view  of  this  fcene'had  occafioned  ;  but 
her  feelings  \yers  fo  exquifite  that  they  deprived  her  of  the  pov.'er  of 
utterance,  and  ihe  adually  remained  feveral  days  without  being  able 
to  fpe.ik. 

t  Mr.  Klelft,  a  celebrated  poet  of  Germany,  diiiinguifhed  by  his 
Poem  upon  S^i'.ii^. 


20  2  The  Influence  of  So/if zide, 

form  miracles  upon  the  heart.  Who  among  xi3, 
ahs  !  has  not  experiericed,  in  the  hours  of  languor 
and  difguli,  the  powerful  eiiecls  which  vi  view  of 
the  enchanticg  pleafures  enjoyed  by  the  village  ruf- 
tic  is  capable  of  aiiordiiig  f  Kow  fondly  the  heart 
partakes  of  all  his  joys  i  With  what  freedom,  cor- 
diality and  kindnefs '  wc  take  him  by  the  hand, 
and  liften  to  his  plain,  unlettered  tales  !  How  fud- 
denly  do  v/e  feel  our  boibms  iriterclled  in  every  ob- 
ject that  iurrounds  us  !  How  focn  all  tha  fecret  in- 
clinations of  our  fouls  are  difplayed,  refined,  and 
meliorated  !  Rural  fcei:^es  have  a  variety  of  plea- 
liares  for  thcie  who,  buried  in  thefmk  of  citieSjhave 
fcarcely  any  k-io  wledge  of  what  pleafure  is. 

A  French  olMcer,  on  his  return  to  his  native 
country  after  a  long  abience,  exclaimed,  It  is  on- 
ly in  rural  life  that  a  man  can  truly  enjoy  the  trea- 
fllr^•s  of  the  heart,  himfelf,  his  wife,  his  childrcnand 
-his  friends.  The  country  has,  in  every  refpe(fl:,  the 
greater  advantage  over  11:0  town,  llieair  is  pure, 
th3  profpe^ts  fiiifiing,  the  walks  pleafant,  the  living 
comforla'^ie,  the  manners  fiTiDie,  and  th.3  mind  vir- 
tuoUu.  The pufiions  unfold  tneinlclves  without  in- 
jury to  any  per;:vv  Th^:'  bof^ni,  inipired  by  the 
love  of  liberty,  : r:":]:  ciependent  cn  Heaven 
alone.  Avanr'oiv;  rd.id  .  nre  continually  gratified 
by  the  envied:  grfts  cf  nature  ;  the  warrior  may 
follow  tre  chace  ;  the  vodjy' uary  may  cultivate  the 
rich  fruits  of  the  t-trth  ;  and  die  philolcpher  indulge 
his  contemplation  at  e:de." — O  '  how  itrongly  this 
writer  moves  andi/iterefts  myheartjWhen  he  tells  me 
by  this  anvciiog  p  nia£;e  of  his  work — Hhould 
prefer  a  reudence  in  my  native  f  tl:-  ^  to  all  others  ; 
not  becauic  they  are  more  beainiiii],  but  becaule  I 
was  brought  up  there.  The  ipot  on  v/liich  we  pafs 
oarearlieii  days  pollclids  a  iljcret  cnarm,  an  inex- 
prcihble  enchantment,  lupcrlor  to  any  ether  enjoy- 
ment the  world  ailords  ;  and  the  lois  of  which  no 
Other  country  can  comp;nfaie  ;  ii:e  foot  where  the 


The  Influence  cf  SjHiiule,  203 

gaiTi]:)oIs  of  my  infant  d?-3's  were  pl'iyed  ;  thofe  hap- 
py d^ys  which  paired  withcut  inquietude  nnd  cares. 
The  finding  of  a  bird's  nelt  thi^n  ■  fll-jd  my  bcfom 
wirh  the  higheil  jr.y.  What  dclig-.t  have  I  felt 
from  the  careff of  a  partridge,  iu  making  a  peck 
at  me,  in  feeling  its  li:tle  heart  beat  agairifl;  myhand  1 
Happy  he  who  returns  to  the  place  of  Iiis  firll  at- 
tachment ;  that  place  where  l:e  fondly  fixed  his  love 
.on  all  around  him  ;  v/here  every  obie»^l  appeai^ed 
amiable  to  his  eyes  ;  the  fertile  Selds  in  which  he 
uled  to  run  and  exercife  himlslf  ;  the  orchards 
which  he  ufei  to  pillage.''* 

Thefe  def  ghtful  fentiments  engrave  indelibly 
on  our  hearis  the  remembrance  of  our  infaiit  refi- 
dence  in  the  country,  of  thofe  happy  times  v/hich 
we  prdled  v/ith  fo  much  pleafure  in  the  charming 
Solitudes  of  our  native  country.  Thus,  at  every 
period  of  cur  exifcenie,  and  in  every  place,  the  free- 
dom and  tranquillity^  of  a  country  life  will  induce  us 
to  exclaim  with  the  liicred  orator — "  How  happy 
is  the  wife  and  virtuous  man,  v/ho  knows  how  to 
enjoy  trauquiiiity with  true  dignity  and  p?rfc(51:  eafe, 
independent  of  everything  around  him  !  How  pref- 
erable is  the  happy  calm  he  there  taftes  to  the  deaf- 
ening clamor,  to  tne  f;ife  joys  and  dazzling  fplen- 
dor  of  ihefarnionablewcrid  !  What  renned,  noble, 
generous  fentimeats  rife  and  unfold  themfelves  in 
retirem.ent,  which,  during  the  din  cf  bufmefs  and 
the  difFipatirns  of  pleaR-re,  he  concealed  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  ibul,  fearful  of  the  contem.ptuous  faeer 
of  wicked  and  unthiiiking  minds." 

O  my  beloved  Zollikofcr,T  I  have  felt  in  the 
pleafures  of  a  retired  domeftic  hfe  ttie  truth  of  thofe 
dodiines  y/nlch  you  announced  to  us  at  Leipfic  ; 
thofe  ufefui  dcflhnes  which  do  not  inculcate  into 


*  To  this  pafiage,  m  the  French  tranfiatlonof  this  work,  is  A.ib- 
joined  the  following  note— -*  Not  knowing  the  traveller  who  is  here 
alluded  to,  webeaiiiis  excufe  tor  having  ventured  to  tranfiace  it  ifjto 
French  Trom  the  text  in  German." 

t  A.  cslebia«cd  preacher .ef  Germant. 


204  ^'^-'^  IrJIiience  of  Solitude, 

the  mind  a  cold  and  fterile  theology,  but  wife  an. 
virtuous  precepts  which  warm  und  animate  th 
heart.  I  have  ieen,  as  3^ou  defrribed,  that  in  th 
bovrers  cf  retirement  a  man  of  borineis  may  forge 
his  bickenngs  and  piiinful  ;  that  if  h 

cannot  banifh  them  from  his  e  may  drow 

his  cares  in  the  bofom  of  j"  i  .^at  his  hear 

v/ill  dilate  to       charms   ^  .  ^ .  n  and  hope 

that  his  cnuntenaiice  will  br:g'it.n,  and  rll  his  pain 
and  difquietudes  lulpfrnd  ihe«r  rage  unfii  he  ha 
j>;ained  fufficievit  flr-^igth  to  fi-pp'.  Tt  them,  or  pre 
pare:^  proper  reiredies  to  dnve  them  quite  away, 
I  have  obfcived  the  man  of  icarrtii:gin  refirem.ent' 
abandon  the  thread  c  f  his  h^borious  refearehes,  re-^ 
treat  from  the  librrinths  cf  f iiidy,  and  iind  in  tl^e 
enjoy  men!?,  of  innocence,  and  live  noble  fmphn-y  of 
his  domeit ICS, more  trutis  and  traoqihll'ty  ,  raor.:  ali- 
ment for  the  heart  aod  infbrm^Moj;*  for  th^  mrid, 
than  in  all  the  precepts  of  art  and  eri"!diti^  n.  I  have 
obierved  every  one  there  to  o^.tirhi  Njc  portion  of 
praifeand  approbadon  which  hemtriis,  ?.nd  t' at  he 
obtains  them  from  perfoos  v/h^.jfe  praife  and  appro- 
haiion  it  is  his  utmofr.  ambition  to  acquire.  1  have 
ieen  the  uofortur.ate  relieved,  the  wretched  made 
happy,  the  w^anderer  put  mXo  hi  ^  rigi't  wi"^y  ;  I  have 
Teen,  in  fhort,  every  body  thus  fiud  by  degrees  fat- 
isfaclion  and  content. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  the  crlm  of  rural  life,  nnd 
the  view  of  oature^s  charms,  inipirc-s  v.  ipecies  of 
ibft  and  traaquii  m.eknchoiy.  Ihe  noify  ple^'.fures 
of  the  world  hen  appear  infipid,  and  we  ^afte  the 
charms  of  Solitude  and  repofe  with  increaf'd  de- 
ii^^ht.  The  happy  ir.doleree  peculiar  to  Italians, 
•who.  under  the  pie^dores  of  a  de^r,  unclouded  fky, 
are  ?lways  po  r  but  i^e  ;  r^"  i:->'l'  r  coEtributes 
gready  to  inir:\:ye  t'e  ht-.r.,  loe  rn^'JaeG:  of  their 
climate,  the  lbrLi]Ky  of  vbeir  lo;),  their  rehgious, 
peaceful  and  con.ea-ed  diipofidcnr-  compenfate  for 
every  tkieg.   Dodlor  Moore^  an  Ei^ghih  traveller. 


The  Influence  </  Sislhiuu^  ioj 

CT  whole  works  I  extremely  fond,  lays,  that 
the  Italians  pre  the  greateft  loungers  in  the  world-; 
and  while  walking  in  the  fiekl?,  ®r  ftretched  in  the 
liiade,  feem  to  enjoy  the  I'ereriity  and  genial  warmth 
of  their  climate  wnth  a  degree  of  luxurious  indul- 
gence peculiar  to  themfelves.  Without  ever  run- 
ning into  the  daring  exceiles  of  the  Englifn,  or  dif- 
playing  the  frilky  vivacity  of  the  French,  or  the  in- 
vincible phlegm  of  the  Germans,  the  Italicua  popu- 
lace dilcover  a  tpecies  of  fedate  fstifibility  to  evei*y 
fource  of  enjoy  ment,.tTom  whlchjperhapSjtheyderive 
a  greater  degiee  of  happ'.nefs  than  anyof  the  others.'* 
Under  tliis  pleafing  privation  of  thole  obje<fl:s 
which  aiHict  and  torment  the  heart,  it  is  in  truth 
almcfi:  impoffible  for  the  mind  to  avoid  an  occalion- 
al  indulgence  of  agreeable  chinieras  and  romantic 
fentiments ;  but,  notwithfcanding  all  thefe  dlfid van- 
tages, this  condition  has  its  fair  fide.  Romantic 
fptculatiors  nray  lead  the  mind  into  extravagant  re- 
fclutions  and  erroneous  fyf terns,  may  frequently  fo- 
ment bale  and  contemptible  paflions,  habituate  the 
mind  to  a  light  and  unfubltantial  mode  of  thinking, 
prevent  it  ftom  exerting  its  faculties  wath  activity 
and  ardor  to  rational  ends,  and  obfcure  that  prof- 
peel:  of  happinefs  which  a  life  of  fimplicity  and  ined- 
eration  prefents  to  our  view.  The  foul  alio  may- 
quit  w^itli  regret  the  ideal  world  on  v%^hich  it  dwells 
with  fuch  fond  delight and  perhaps  thefe  illulions 
alfo  may  not  only  impede  the  difcharge  of  the  ordi- 
nary duties  of  life,  but  prevent  the  mind  from  taft- 
ii^g  any  of  its  pleainres.  It  is  certain,  however,  that 
romantic  ftntiments  do  not  always  render  the  mind 
unhappy.  V\/'ho,  alas !  has  ever  realized  the  hap- 
plrei?  he  has  frequently  been  enabled  to  enjoy  by 
the  pleafures  of  imagination  ?  .  ^ 

Rcuiieau,  in  his  youth,  w^as  a  great  readci* 
of  rom.aQces  ;  and  being  foon  hurried  away  by  the 
love  of  thofe  imaginary  objccls,  with  which'  this 
fpecies  of  reading  and  the  fertility  of  his  own  imac- 
(XVIil) 


2o6  The  Itipuence  of  Solitude*  \ 

ination  filled  his  mind,  he  difregarded  every  thing 
by  which  he  was  furroiinded.  This  was  the  Ibiirce 
of  that  tafte  for  Solitude  which  he  prefer ved  to  the 
moil  advanced  period  of  his  Ufe  ;  a  tafle  in  appear- 
ance didated  by  melancholy  and  mifanthropy,  but 
which  he  attributed  to  the  irrefiftible  impuifes  of  an 
heart  too  kind,  too  tender,  too  affectionate  ;  and 
not  being  able  elfev/here  to  gratify  his  feelings  by 
fentiments  fufficiently  warm  and  animated,  he  v/as 
conftrained  to  Uve  on  fiction. 

There  are  wanderings  of  the  imagination  which 
may  be  indulged  in  SoUtude  to  gratify  the  feelings  of 
the  heart,v/ithout  doingany  injury  to  our  fentiments 
or  fenfations.  In  every  fituaiion  of  my  life  I  have 
always  found  feme  individual  to  whom  myheart  has 
fondly  attached  irfelf.  O,  if  my  friends,  whom  I 
have  left  in  Swifierland,  knew  how  frequently,  dur- 
ing the  filence  cf  the  night,  I  pafs  with  them  thole 
hours  which  fhould  be  lacred  to  deep  ;  if  theyknev/, 
that  neither  time  nor  abfence  can  efface  from,  my 
mind  the  remembrance  hew  dear  they  have  been 
to  me  frommyearlieft  youth  to  the  prefent  mom.eat ; 
if  they  knew  how  fpeedily  the  left  remembrance 
diliipates  my  forrows^  and  makes  me  forget  misfor- 
tune, they  would  perhaps  rejoice  to  find  that  I  ftill 
live  among  ihera  in  imnghiation,  aliiiough  I  may 
be  dead  to  them  in  reality. 

O,  let  not  a  folitary  man,  whofe  heart  is  want- 
ed by  fentiments  noble  and  refined,  ever  be  thought 
unhappy  1  He,  of  v/hom  the  Hiipid  vulgar  frequent- 
ly complain  ;  he,  whom  they  conclude  to  be  the  vic- 
tim of  every  melancholy  idea,  of  every  Ibmbrous 
refle£lion,frequentlytafi:es  of  inexpreffitle  pleafures. 
The  French  conceived  the  good  Rcuffeau  ro  be  of 
a  gloomy  difpclition.  He  certainly  was  not  fo  dur- 
ing a  great  portion  of  his  life ;  he  certainly  was  not 
fo  v;hen  he  wrote  to  M.  de  Malhet-be,  the  chancel- 
lor's fon,  "  I  cannot  exprefs  toycu.  Sir,  how  much 
I  have  been  agisted  ]>y  perceiving  that  you  efteera 


The  Lifluence  of  Sclkuck.  207 

me  the  mpfl  uchappy  of  mankind.  The  publx  will, 
without  doubt,  judge  of  me  as  you  do,  and  this  is 
the  caufe  of  my  alBicllon.  O  that  the  fate  which 
I  have  experienced  were  but  known  to  the  whole 
univerfe  !hat  ever^^  man  would  endeavor  to  follow 
my  example  :  peace  would  tiien  reign  throughout 
the  world  ;  men  would  no  longer  dream  of  calum- 
niating each  other ;  and  there  would  no  longer  be 
wicked  men,  when  no  one  would  fiadit  their  inter- 
eft  to  be  wicked. — But  in  what  could  I,  in  ihort» 
find  enjoyment  wheal  was  alone  ? — In  myfelf,  in 
the  whole  uiiiverie,  i-i  every  thing  that  does,  in  ev- 
erything that  cm  ex:?:  therein;  in  all  that  the  eye 
finds  beautiful  in  tie  real  world,  or  the  imaginadon 
in  the  intcllecluaL  I  collected  about  me  every 
thing  that  is  flattering  to  the  heart  ;  my  defires  were 
the  rule  of  my  ple^fures.  No  !  th^  raoft  voluptu- 
ous have  never  experienced  equal  delights  ;  and  I 
have  always  enjoyed  my  chimeras  m.uch  more  than 
if  they  had  been 'realized." 

'Fhere  is  undoubtedly  an  high  degree  of  rhap- 
fo:'y  in  thefe  expreffions  ;  but  O  ye  Ihupid  vulgar^ 
v.'ho  would  n3t  prefer  the  v/arm  Vvanderings  of 
RouITeau's  mind  to  your  cold  underltaadings  ?  Who 
would  not  voluntarily  renounce  your  emptydifcour- 
fe?,  all  your  fehcities,  urbanities,  coify  aileinblieSy 
pafLimes  and  pnejadices  ?  vVho  would  not  prefer  a 
quiet  and  conten;ed  iifc^  in  the  bof m  cf  an  happy 
family  ?  Wno  would  not  more  willingly  leek  in  the 
iilence  of  the  woods,  upon  the  delightful  borders  of 
ailill  l  ike,  thor:^  plealures  of  liinple  nature  which 
leave  fo  delightful  an  impreUion,  thofe  joys  fo  pure, 
10  afl'ecf  n^,To  different  from  your  own  ? 

Eclogues  are  fictions,  but  they  are  ficl ions  of 
the  moft  natural  and  agreeable  kind,  the  pureft  and 
moft  fublime  defcrip'don?  of  rural  haiMniaefs.  If 
you  are  inclined  to  taiie  of  real  plcafares,  you  muii: 
feck  them  in  retirement,  v/here  the  ibul  feels  itfclf. 
altogether  difsngaged  from  the  lornients  and  opv 


2c  8  The  Infiucnce  of  Solitude,  '  1 

preffion  of  the  world  j  where  (he  no  longer  feels ^ 
tboie  artificial  wants  which  only  contribute  to  ren- ' 
der  hfi^r  more  unhapp]^,  whether  fhe  is  capable  of 
gnilfyinfA  them,  or  feeks  hopelelslvro  indulge  them  ; 
where  alone  (he  preferv:s  her  i-efineinent  and  fim- 
plicity.    The  man  who  neither  fees  nor  hears  thole 
things  which  may  aitect  the  heart,  who  content  with : 
little  is  IcitiL^iled  with  all,  breathr^s  nothing  but  bve' 
and  innocence^  and  perceives  tr.e  golden  as;e  of  the 
poets  revived,  of  v/hich  the  vvorldiy-minded  man  ib ; 
iinjuilly  regrets  ?helv~^(s.    Serenity,  love,  and  atafije 
for  the  beaut: oof  nature,  were  mA  ;«dyantag^es  pe- 
culiar to  toe  vv'oocs  of  Arcadia  :  vvc  may  all  iive  in 
Arcadia -if  v;  e  pieafe.    The  feelings  of  the  heart,the 
re  we  derive  from  admiring  a  mea- 
d.Qw  covered  with  flowers,  a  cryltal  fpring,  and  a 
pleaf^mt  (hade,  afford  univerfal  enjoyment. 

Pcpe  afcribes  the  origin  of  poetry  to  ihe  age 
ihai  iii^rnediately  fucceedsd  the  creation.  The  foil 
employment  of  mankind  was  the  care  of  flocks,  and 
therefore  the  moll  ancient  ibrt  of  poetry  was  prob- 
ably/;t7/?c7-^7/.  It  is  natural  to  imagine  that  anciently 
ihcph^rds  mnft  have  endeavored  to  divert  tke  hap- 
py Iciiurc  cf  iheir  (blitary,  icdentary  lifs  ;  and  in 
inch  f;^"'  J  ::  ^"'hat  diveriion  could  be  miore  agree- 
able :  .'  And  in  their  longs  what  couild 
be  !Ti..vi  w  .  -:ian  to  celebrate  Vitu  own  felicity? 
Sii;  h  was  p:(.o-b:^>  in  \:;e  opinion  of  Pope,  the  or- 
k^in  o:  pa/icraL  ;  titlcriptioni  of  the  caimiitis  and 
tranq-'illluy  v/ith  v.'hich  the  life  of  a  rhepherdwas 
,  Wd.  ^nd  defgned  to  cieate  in  our  bofomsa 
,  L  :.^d  eucem  f>)r  the  viitue^^  cf  a  rbrmer  :^ge. 

Goodiieis  communicates  itieli' by  me?:^s  of  thcle 
happy  lirii' ns,  ai-d  vve  bleis  the  poet,  who  la  the 
ecltacy  ofhSi  own  felicity,endeavors  to  render  oth- 
ers as  happy  as  b.imfclf.  Sicily  and  Zurich  have 
produced  two  of  tliefe  benefactors  to  mankind. 
The  mind  never  beholds  nattire  under  a  more  beau^ 
Uful  alpe^l,  we  never  breathe  a  purer  air,  the  heart 


7ke  hjtuence  of  ^oUtuJc,  tog' 

never  beats  To  tenderly,  thebofom  never  feels  mere 
refined  delight,  than  when  we  read  the  Idyls  ol' 
Theocritus  and  GeiTner  ;*  and  it  is  my  peculiar 
gratitication,  my  dear  Geflher,  when  I  recall  to 
mind  the  plealares  I  have  received  in  our  corref- 
pondence. 

It  is  by  thefe  eafy  and  fimple  modes  that  the 
beauiies  of  nature  operate  upon  the  heart  in  aid  of 
theimagi  lation,  that  rin-al  life  infpires  the  foul  with 
the  mildeit  fentiments,  and  that  Solitude  leads  us  to 
h-ippinefs.  The  mind,  indeed,  drawn  away  by 
thefe  agreeable  images,  often  refigns  itfelf  too  eafily 
to  romantic  ideas  ;  but  they  frequently  give  birth 
to  fancies  which  amend  the  heart  without  doing  any 
injary  to  the  underftanding,  while  the  happy  fictions 
and  moic  agreeable  remembrances  fpread  their  fiov/- 
ers  along  the  thorny  paths  of  life. 

The  frequently  feels  no  repofe,  (the  high- 
eft  happinels  on  earth)  except  in  Sohtude  ;  but  the 
terra  repofe  does  not  always  fignify  lloth  and  indo- 
lence. I  he  tranfition  from  that  which  is  painful  to 
that  which  is  plcafant,from  the  reftraints  of  bufinefs 
to  the  freedom  of  philofophy,  may  alfo  be  called 
repoi'e.  It  was  from  this  idea  that  r.  Scipio  faid, 
that  he  was  never  lefs  idle  than  in  the  hours  of  lei- 
fure,  and  never  lefs  alone  than  when  alone.  To 
ftrong,  energetic  minds  leifure  and  Solitude  are  not 


_  ^  *  Peihaps  no  wiiter  throughout  Europe  has  more  judidoufly  cr'i35r 
icil'ed  the  Idyls  of  Geflner  than  the  incomparable  filair  in  the  *'  Lectures 
on  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres,"  where  Kc  fays,  ''Of  all  the  moderns 
M.  GeHher,  a  Poet  of  Swiilerlaiid,  has  been  the  moft  lucccfsful  in  his 
paftoral  compofitioiM.  He  has  introduced  into  his  Idyls  (as  he  entitles 
them)  wiany  new  ideas.  His  rural  fceneiy  is  often  ftriking,  and  his 
defcriptions  are  lively.  He  prcfents  paftoral  life  to  us  with  all  the  em— 
belliihments  of  which  it  is  fufccptiblei  but  without  any  excefs  of  re- 
finement. What  forms  the  chief  merit  of  this  poet,  is,  that  he  writes 
to  the  heart  5  and  has  enriched  the  fubjedt  of  his  Jdyls  with  incidenta- 
which  give  rife  to  much  tender  fentiment.  Scenes  of  domeftic  felicity, 
are  beautifully  painted,  Tiie  mutual  alYeftion  of  hufbands  and  wives, 
ot  parents  and  children^  of  brothers  and  fifters,  as  wcli  as  of  lovers,  arc 
Hifplaycd  in  a  pleafing  and  touching  manner.  From  not  underftanding: 
the  language  in  which  M.  Gellher  writes,!  can  be  no  jndg-er.-he  poetry 
of  his  ftyle  :  but,  in  the  fubjeftand  coniudof  his  paftoials,  he  apfCV^* 
to  ffic  Whavs  OUtdets  ali  the  moderBs." 

(:^vm  2)- 


:?.I0  The  hiflacnce  of  SrJiitiae. 

aftate  of  torpidity,  but  a  new  incentive  to  tb.r  u<iht 
and  action  ;  and,  when  they  rejoice  that  the  happy 
completion  of  one  labor  enables  them  immediately 
to  commence  another,  it  is  for  the  neart  and  not 
foBthe  mind  that  they  alk  repoie. 

It  is  but  too  true,  alas !  that  he  who  feeks  for 
a  fituaticn  exempt  from  all  inquietude  Icllows  a 
chimtra.  He  wlio  is  inclined  to  enjoy  life,  mull  not 
afpire  to  repofeas  an  end,  but  only  as  a  means  of  re- 
aniraatiog  his  a61:lvity.  He  mufl  therefore  prefer 
fuch  employments  as  are  bdi:  fitted  to  the  extent 
and  r-nure  of  his  cj.pacity,  and  net  thofe  which 
3:>romiie  comperikticn  and  ei^jcyn'ieijr  without  pain 
and  labor,  wh'cii  le;n  e  one  portion  rf  the  facuides 
inert,  ileep  the  ienici  in  forgtd  ulneis,  and  promiie 
ineaiures  and  advantages  v/n:cn  require  no  exertion 
to  attiiin. 

Repcie  is  not  to  be  fouyd  in  nidolence,  but  by 
!^aklng  immediate  advantage  of  the  ilrft  impiilie  to 
action.  If  the  misfortunes  of  t hole  v/elove  always 
ii':»ake  la-.  ?\nhappv  ;  if  the  grief  of  thofe  wh:m  we 
•ibierve  'aider  iiiiierings  tears  our  hearts  ;  if  the 
icutv:;  fe-..frig?  of  cumpaflion  for  the  unfortunate 
poilbn  ail  our  pleat ures,  eiiv elope  tr-e  appearances 
of  the  worid  in  (hades  of  the  darkeft  me]anchc;iy, 
.'v  uder  our  exitreace  painiui,  ctir  f  xulties  incapable 
of  exertion,  and  deprive  us  even  of  ability  to  prac- 
file  the  virtues  which  we  feel ;  if  tor  m;:)nths  and 
V  ears  Vv^e  vainly  endeavor  to  deliver  curlelves  from 
The  mod  cruel  fuilerings,  v."e  mull  ti:en  :d"^iblutely 
fly  to  SohtU'J.e.  But  O,  rsay  the  Jl-auiy  which  ac- 
.ompanies  our  retreat,  be  an  Angel  of  \1rtue  who, 
iu  our  defcent  to  the  \;ale  of  death,  will  conduct 
,:nd  fupport  us  by  her  whdoiR  in  a  noble  and  fub- 
-aae  tranquillity. 

Amid  the  concaienaticn  of  p'^inons  and  mis- 
fortunes of  which  1  was  the  (pore  and  vidim,  1  knew 
no  hours  more  happy  than  thole  in  which  I  forgot 
die  >\-crf  r'and  was  'fcrgotten  by  it.  Thol^  hours 


The  Influence  of  Soliti'.Je,  2 1 1 

I  always  found  in  the  filcr.ce  of  the  groves.  All 
that  opprelled  my  heart  in  pnbhc  life,  all  that  m 
the  vortex  of  the'  world  only  infpired  me  with  dii- 
guil,  fear,  or  conllraint,  then  fled  far  away.  I  ad- 
mired the  filence  cf  furrounding  nature,^^  and  while 
I  enjoyed  the  fcene,  ihe  foi'ttft  and  naoi'i  delicious 
ft^ulations  liHedmybreafl. 

How  often,  in  the  inv?briety  of  pure  and  inef- 
fable delight,  have  I,  on  the  approach  of  ipring,^  ad- 
mired the  magnificent  valley  where  the  ruins  cf  the 
refidence  of  Rodolpho  de  Haplburg  rife  upon  the 
lide  of  a  hill  crowded  with  wood,  whole  variegated 
fUrgepreients  all  the  hues  v/hich  ^  c^du re  can  pro- 
duce !  There  I  beheld  the  Aar  defcead  in  a  torrent 
from  the  lofty  mountains,  ibmetimes  forming  itfelf 
into  a  vaiL  bafon  encloled  by  Iteep  banks,  lorn etimes 
precipitating  itfelf  tnrcugh  narrow  pallages  acrofs 
the  rocks,  tr.en  winding  its  courie  quietly  and  ma- 
jeilicaily  through  the  midtile  cf  fmiling  andjeriile 
plains,  w^hilft,  on  the  ether  fide  of  the  RuHs,  ahd 
lower  dov/n,  the  Limmat  bring  the  tribute  cf  their 
ilreams,  and  peaceably  unite  with  the  waters  of  the 
,  Aar.  In  the  middle  of  this  rich  and  verdant  carpet 
I  beheld  tha  Royal  Sontude  where  the  remains  of 
the  Emperor  Albert  thrFirii,  repofe  in  filence  with 
thofe  cf  many  princes  of  the  Houfe  cf  Aullria, 
!  Counts,  Knights  and  -  Gentlemen,  killed  by  the 
!  Swifs.  At  a  diiiance  I  difcovered  the  long  v;Llley 
I  where  lie  the  ruins  of  the  celebrated  city  of  ^^indo- 
niffa,*  upon  w^hich  I  have  fo  frequently  fat  and  re- 


I  *  Vindonlffa  was  a  very  laiije  and  well-fortified  Rom:.ri  village, 

which  lerved  as  a  foi  trefs  to  the  Emperors  againlt  the  irruptions  of  the 

■    Germans.    Jn  this  place  they  continually  kept  a  very  nLmerous  gar- 

I  rifon  to  overawe  thofe  dangerous  nci^hboms,,  who  frcqr-entlj  eftablifhed 
themfelvcs  on  the  borders  of  the  Rhine,  and  pillaged  the  plains  of  the 
Aar,  notwithftaaijiiig  the  fortieires  the  Romans  had  trcdled  on  the; 
banks  of  that  river.  The  Emperor  Conftantine  Chlorus  defeated  the 
Germans  ia  the  year  297  between  the  Rhine  and  the  Aar  j  but  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  century  the  Romans  loft  ail  th^^ir  power  in  that, 
country,  and  Vindonifla  was  taken  and  deftroyed  by  tine  Germans. 
It  appeals,  indeed,  that  it  was  rebuilt  j,  for  the  Epitcopai  Chair  was, 

[  ■  ^M^iu^  the  reigns  of  the  French  Ejijpeiois,  eftabJill^ied  ia  this  city,  but 


I 


212  The  Injlucnce  of  SolifuJe, 

fiedled  on  the  vanity  of  human  greatnefs.  Beyond 
this  magnificent  country,  ancient  caftles  raife  their 
lofty  heads  upon  the  hills,  and  the  far  diftant  hori- 
zon  is  terminated  by  the  romantic  and  fublimefum- 
mits  of  the  Alps.  In  the  midfl  of  all  this  grand 
fcenery,  my  eyes  were  involuntarily  call  down  into 
the  deep  valley  immediately  below  me,  and  contin- 
ued fixed  upon  the  little  village  where  I  firPc  drew 
my  breath.  I  traced  all  the  houfes,  and  every  win- 
dov;  of  the  houfe  which  I  had  inhabited.  When  I 
compared  the  feafations  i  then  felt  with  thcfe  which 
I  had  before  experienced,  I  exclaimed  to  myfelf, 
Why,  alas  !  dees  my  foul  thus  contraft  itfeir, 
when  iurrounded  by  fo  many  objedls  capable  of  in- 
fpiring  the  fublimefc  fentiments  ?  Why  does  the  fea- 
fon,  fo  lively  and  ferene,  appear  to  me  fo  turbulent 
and  difinal  ?  Why  do  I  feel,  on  calling  my  eyes  be- 
low, i'o  much  uneafinefs  and  difgull,  when  but  a 
moment  ago,  on  viewing  thofe  romantic  obje6ls  I 
felt  my  he»c  expand  with  tranquillity  and  love,  par- 
doned all  the  errors  of  mifguided  judgment,  and 
forgot  the  injuries  I  have  received  ?  Why  is  that 
little  knot  of  men  who  are  alTembled  under  my  feet 
fo  fretful'  and  difcordant  ?  Why  is  a  virtuous  cha- 
racter ib  horrid  to  their  fight  ?  Why  is  he  who  gov- 
erns fo  imperious,  he  who  is  governed  fo  'dhjtCt  ? 
Why  is  there  in  this  place  fo  little  liberty  and  cou- 
rage ?  Why  are  there  fo  few^  among  them  who  k  now 
themfelves  ?  Why  is  one  fo  proud  and  haughty,  ano- 
ther fo  mean  and  groveling  ?  Why,  in  ihort,  among, 
beings  who  are  by  nature  equal,  does  pride  and  en- 
vy fo  egregioufly  prevail,  while  they  p'e-rceive  the 
natives  of  thefe  groves  perch  without  diftinclioa  up- 
on the  higheft  and  the  lowelt  boughs,  and  unite 

in  confequcnce  of  beiag  agala  dedroyed,  was,  towards  the  year  579  rr- 
moved  to  Conftantta,  Jt  was  among  the  remains  of  this  celebrated 
city  that  Counts  Windich  and  Altemberg  dwelt  in  the  tenth  century. 
Gfall  this  grandeur  the  ruins  only  are  now  to  be  feen  ;  below  which» 
Ecar  the  callles  of  Wlftdich  aadAiteuiber^,  ia  the  little  village  of  Bi-ugf, 
tvheie  1  was  bom» 


The  Influence  of  Solitude.  213 

their  fongs  to  celebrate  the  praifcs  of  the  Cre?.tor  V 
Having  tinifhed  my  fcliloquy,  I  defcended  from  the 
mountain  fatisiied  and  peaceable,  made  my '  moft 
profound  rever;^nces  to  INIcilieurs  the  Burgomsiiers, 
extended  my  hand  with  cordiality  to  one  of  niy  in- 
feriors, and  prt.ferved  the  happieii  tranquiility,  nn- 
tiJ,  by  mixing  with  the  w^orld,  the  fublime  mcun- 
lain,  the  fmiliiig  valley  and  the  friendly  birds  van-* 
iflied  fi-om  my  raind. 

Thus  rural  Solitude  dillipates  all  thofe  ideas 
which  dirpleafe  us  in  the  ib^icty  of  men,  changes 
tile  hiitcreil:  feelings  into  the  fweetefS:  pleafures,  and 
iiifpires  an  ecilacy  and  content  which  the  votaries 
of  the  world  can  never  experience.  The  tranquilli- 
ty of  nature  filences  every  criminal  inclinatioQ  in 
the  corrupted  lieaft ;  renders  us  blithe,  amiable, 
open  and  confident  j  and  ilrengthens  onr  fteps  in  the 
patlis  of  virtue,  provided  we  direct  the  pnTions  to 
their  proper  end,  and  that  an  overheated  imagina- 

on  dees  not  fabricate  fancied  wees. 

The  attainment  of  all  th.efe  advantages  is,  with- 
out doubt,  a  tafiv  rather  too  difficult  to  perform  in 
the  Solitude  of  cities.  It  appears  eafy  indeed  to  re- 
dre  to  cur  apartment,  and  raife  our  rainds  by  iilcnt 
contemplation  above  the  con(ideration  of  thofe  ob- 
je<fts  by  which  we  are  furrrjunded.  But  few  per- 
fons  erjoy  fufHcient  oppcr.Uiiities  to  do  this  ;  for 
within  doors,  a  thoufand  things  may  occur  to  inter- 
rupt the  courie  uf  our  reilecTtions ;  in  the  ftreets,  and 
in  company,  a  thouiand  crofs  accidents  may  happen 
to  confound  our  vain  wifdom  ;  and  peevifli,  painful 
fenfations  will  foon  aggravate  the  heart  and  v  e'jikea 
the  mind,  when  not  upheld  by  objects  fuliicientiy 
aii'ccting. 

RoufTeau  was  ahvays  extremely  unhappy  in 
Paris.*  This  extraordinary  genius,  indeed,  wrote 
his  immortal  works  while  he  reiided  in  the  Metrop- 


*  I  can  truly  fay,  that  all  the  time  I  lived  at  Paris,  was  only  em- 
plojed  in  leekij-'^  the  Boeans  of  kein^  able  to  live  out  of  ic> 


214  ^^'^  Infiuei^c  of  Solitude,  ^ 

ol^.s ;  but  the  moment  he  quitted  his  houfe,  his  mind 
was  bewildered  by  a  variety  of  cppofite  fentimeots, 
his  )d€as  abandoned  him,  and  the  brilliant  writer, 
the  profound  philofopher,  he  who  was  io  intimately 
acquainted  with  all  the  labyrinths  of  tiie  human 
heart,  became  alinofx  a  child. 

In  the  country,  we  leave  home  with  greater  , 
fafety,  cheerfulnefs  and  i'atisfaftion.    The  iolitary  I 
man,  if  tired  with  meditating  in  his  fuudy,  has  only  I 
to  open  his  door  and  walk  abroad  ;  tranquillity  oFl 
mind  attends  his  freps,  and  pleafare  prefents  herfelf 
to  his  view  at  every  turn.    He  extends  his  hand 
with  cordiality  to  every  man,  for  he  ]oves  and  is 
beloved  bv  every  man  he  meets.    Nothing  ever  oc- 
curs to  irritate  his  paflions  ;  he  is  under  no  dread 
of  experieocing  the  dird.iin  of  an  imperious  Ccunt- 
efs  or  an  h.uighty  Baron,  prcud  of  their  titles  :  no 
monied  upfiart  drives  over  him  wiih  his  coach. 
Frontlefs  vice  dares  not  venture  on  the  protecfticn 
cf  mufty  title-deeds,  nor  the  power  otf  a  weighty 
f  urfe  to  oiFer  an  ind'guity  to  modeii  virtue. 

But  in  Paris,  as  v/ell  7\s  in  every  other  city,  a 
man  who  v/ithdraws  himfeif  from  the  bu^  fcenes  of 
life  will  nevtr  fe-l  fucii  fentiinents  as  thefe,  while 
he  lives  hi  peace  with  his  own  hesrt,  and  his  nerves 
are  net  weakened  or  unltnmg :  it  is  thefe  (iefc6^3 
that  rcnJ  ;r  us  thelbori:  of  me^'s  unworthy  paliion? ; 
tor  to  a  L  Lin  of  weak  nerves  every  cbjecl  is  irrita- 
ting and  difpleafme. 

Our  days,  even  under  the  languors  of  a  v/eak 
conftitutionj  and  furrounded  by  tiie  mofi:  unrrle;.- 
fant  objc^ls,  pafs  quietly  av/ay  in  the  moil  active 
f  :eaes  of  life,  provided  we  are  at  pe.ice  v/ith  our- 
lelves.  Our  puihons  are  the  gales,  by  the  aid  cf 
which  man  ought  to  iieer  his  courie  acrol s  the  ocean 
cf  hfe,  for  it  is  the  pafiions  alone  which  give  mo- 
tion to  the  foul ;  but  v/hcn  they  become  impetuous^ 
the  veiTel  is  in  danger,  and  runs  a-ground.  Pain 
and  grief  fmd  no  eiiirance  into  thofe  bofoms  thar 


The  Influence  of  Soiitudc,  2 1 5 

ai-e  free  from  remcrfc.  The  virtuous  forgst  the 
pair,  form  no  idle  fpecub-tions  on  the  future,  and  do 
not  refine  av;  ay  their  happinei?,  by  thinking  thiit 
what  is  good  may  ftiil  be  bettor.  Every  thing  i^; 
much  better  than  we  imagine.  The  aDxlous  wiihes 
of  an  ardtnt  mind  are  feldcm.  fatislied ;  for  with  fuch 
characters  fruition  is  indeed  frequently  accompar<ied 
with  dif content.  The  Rream  of  content  muft  flow 
from  curfdves,  taking  its  fource  from  a  deliberate 
difpofition  to  learn  what  is  gccd,  and  a  determined 
relblution  to  feck  for  and  enjoy  ii,  however  fmall 
the  portion  may  be. 

To  acquire  that  happy  rranquiility  which  mea 
expect  to  find  in  Solitude,  it  is  not  fuffi-,ient  to  re- 
gard every  object  that  prefents  itielf  to  their  view 
with  fupinenefs  or  furprife.  He  w!  o,  v/ithout  em* 
plcyment,  without  having  a  plan  of  conduct  previ- 
oully  digerled  and  arranged,  hopes  for  happinefs  in 
Solitude,  will  find  himfelf  to  yav/n  at  his  cottage  iu 
the  country  jult  as  often  as  he  did  at  his  manfion  ia 
town,  and  would  do  much  better  to  em.ploy  himfelf 
in  hewing  w» -od  the  whole  day,  than  to  loiter  about 
ia  boots  and  fours.  But  he  v/ho,  living  ia  the  moft 
profound  Solitude,  keeps  himfelf  connnualb/  em- 
ployed, will  acquire,  by  means  of  labor,  true  tran- 
quillity and  happinefs. 

Petrarch  would  have  found  this  tnnquiliity  in 
his  Solitude  at  Vauclufe,  but  that  his  heart  lighed 
fo  incefiantly  for  his  beloved  Laura.  He  was,  how- 
ever, perfectly  acquainted  with  the  art  of  vanquifh- 
ing  himfelf.  "  I  rife,"  faid  he,  "  at  midnight ;  I  go 
out  by  break  of  day.  I  lludy  in  the  fields,  as  well 
as  in  my  chamber,  i  read,  1  v/rite,  I  think,  I  en- 
deavor to  conquer  the  lealt  difpofition  to  indolence, 
and  drive  away  fleep,  effeminacy,  and  fenfuaUtyv 
I  traverfe.  from  morning  till  night,  the  barren  moun- 
tair.v,  the  humid  vallies,  and  the  deep  caverns.  I 
walk,  accempanied  only  by  my  cares,  along  the 
banks  of  my  river.   I  do  not  meet  a  man  io  feducc 


Tbj  influence  cf  Zoliiude*  I 

rf-e  from  my  path ;  men  daily  become  lels  annoy Ing  .1 
TO  ine  ;  for  I  place  them  either  far  before  or  much  J 
behind  mc.    I  moralize  cn  the  pall,  and  deliberated 
on  the  furure.    I  have  found  an  excellent  expedient  * 
to  induce  a  leparation  from  the  world.    1  attach 
myfelf  to-the  place  of  my  r^fidence  ;  and  I  am  per- 
i triad ed  that  1  could  form  that  attachment  in  any 
]>lace  except  at  Avignon.    In  my^  prelent  refidence 
at  V^uclule,  I  find  Athens,  Rome  or  Florence,  ac- 
coniing  as  the  maimers  of  the  one  or  the  other  beft 
pleaie  the  dlipolition  of  ray  m.ind.   Here  I  enjoy 
all  my  friends,  as  well  thofe  with  whom  1  have  liv- 
ed, as  tliofe  Vv'ho  have  entered  the  vale  of  death  be- 
fore me,  and  v/hom  I  only  know  bv  their  good 
works// 

When  we  are  thus  refolved,  and  fmd  refources 
I'lke  thefe  within  our  minds,  SoHtude  enables  us  to 
accoinplilh  whatever  we  pleafe.  Petrarch,  howev- 
er, v/as  not  inclined  to  improve  the  opportunities 
which  Solitude  afforded,  becaufe  he  was  in  love ; 
his  heart  therefore  was  a  flranger  to  repofe;  and 
repofe  is  certainly,  as  Lavater  has  obferved,  the 
means  of  being  ahvays  happy,  aod  of  doing  every 
thing  v/elL 

"Employment  will  produce  coutent  in  the  moit 
frightful  defarts.  The  Dairo  of  Japan  banifhes  the 
grandees  of  the  empire  who  incur  his  difpleafure  in- 
to the  ifland  of  Fatlilio.  The  ftiores  of  this  illand, 
v/h:ch  was  fcimerly  inhabited,  are  of  a  furprifmg 
height.  It  has  no  haven,  is  entirely  barren,  and  its 
accefs  fo  diflicuit,  that  the  exiles  and  their  provifions 
are  ob%ed  to  be  landed  by  means  of  cranes.  The 
fole  employment-  of  thefe  unhappy  men  in  this  mel- 
L^,ncholy  refidence,  is  to  m.anufaifture  filk  fluffs  and 
gold  tiffuc9,  which  are  fo  highly  beautiful  that  they 
are  not  fuffered  to  be  purchafed  by.  fi rangers.  1 
iionfefs  that  I  fhould  not  like  to  fall  under  the  al^- 
pleafure  of  the  Emperor  of  Japan  but  I  neverthe- 
lefs  conceive,  that  there  is  more  internal  tranquillity 


The  Influence  cf  Sclifude.  1 1 7 

in  the  ifland  of  Fatfifio,  thrxn  ia  the  bofoms  of  the 
Emperor  and  his  whole  court. 

Every  thing  which  conveys  a  fpark  of  comfort 
to  the  ibul  of  man,  ihould  be  anxloufly  preferved  ^ 
but,  without  feeking  to  raife  an  eternal  flame,  it  is 
only  neceffary  to  rake  care  that  the  laft  fpark  be  not 
extinguilhed.  It  is  by  this  means  that  we  acquire  in 
the  country  that  quietude  which  flies  the  tumults  of 
the  town,  and  thofe  advantages  of  which  the  world- 
ly-minded have  no  idea. 

What  epicure  ever  enjoyed  fo  much  fatis fac- 
tion in  the  midft  of  his  fplendid  entertainments,  as 
Roufleau  experienced  in  his  frugal  repafl: !  I  re- 
turned flowiy  home,"  fays  he,  "  my  mind  in  fome 
degree  fatigued,  but  with  a  contented  heart.  I  ex- 
perience, on  my  return,  the  moft  agreeable  reliefl, 
in  refigning  myfelf  to  the  impreflion  of  obje£ls, 
without  exercilmg  my  thoughts,  indulging  my  ima- 
gination, or  doing  any  thing  but  feeling  the  peace 
and  happinefs  of  my  flruation.  I  find  my  cloth  rea- 
dy fpread  on  my  table  on  my  lawn.  I  eat  my  fup- 
per  with  appetite  in  the  company  of  my  little  fami- 
ly. No  trace  of  fervitude  or  dependence  interrupts 
the  love  and  kinduefs  by  which  we  are  united :  my 
dog  himfelf  is  my  friend,  and  not  my  flave  ;  we 
have  always  the  fame  inclinations  ;  but  he  has  nev- 
er obeyed  me.  My  gaiety  through  the  whole  eve- 
ning teflified  that  I' had  lived  alone  all  the  day  :  I 
was  very  diflferent  when  I  had  company ;  I  was  fel- 
dom  contented  with  others,  and  never  with  myfelf ; 
and  at  night  (at  eatii^  grumbling  or  fiient.  '  This 
remark  is  my  houfe-Aeep-2r's ;  and  fmce  fhe  men- 
tioned it  to  me,  I  have  found  it  invariably  true  from 
my  own  obfervations.  At  length,  after  having  ta- 
ken a. few  turns  in  my  garden,  or  fung  fome  air  ta 
the  mufic  of  my  fpinette,  I  experience  upon  my  pil- 
low  a  repofe  both  of  body  and  mind  a  hundred  times 
more  fweet  than  fleep  itfelf." 

Nature  and  a  tranquil  heart  arc  to  the  DivinU 
(XIX) 


1 1 S  The  Iiifluence  of  Sc!iiudc\ 

ty  a  more  beautiful  and  maj^nificent  temple  than  the 
Church  of  St.  Peter  at  Rome,  or  the  cathedral  of 
St.  Paul  in  London.  The  moft  favage  defart  is  fill- 
ed with  the  immennty  of  the  Almighty,  and  his  pre- 
tence fanftifies  the  Iblitary  hill  upon  which  a  pure 
and  peaceful  heart  offers  up  its  facrihce  to  him. 
He  reads  the  hearts  of  all  his  creatures ;  he  every 
where  hears  the  prayers  of  thoie  whofe  invocations 
are  fmcere.  Whether  we  rife,  or  whether  we  de- 
fcend,  we  do  not  find  a  grain  of  dull  that  is  not  fill- 
ed with  his  fpirit.  But  there  are  no  places  which 
Infpire  ideas  more  religious  than  thofe  happy  fcites 
which,  uniting  the  mofl  fublime  and  beautiful  ap- 
pearances of  nature,  ravifh  the  heart,  and  iraprefs 
it  with  thofe  voluptuous  fenfations  which  excite  in 
%he  mind  the  feniiments  oflove,  admiration  and  re- 
pcfe. 

I  never  racall  to  my  memory  without  feeling 
the  fofteli  emotions,  the  fublime  and  magnificent 
fcene  which  I  enjoyed  in  the  year  1775,  '^^hen,  du- 
ring a  fine  day,  accompanied  by  my  friend  Lavater, 
i  afcended  the  terrace  of  the  houfe  he  then  inhabit- 
ed, the  houfe  in  which  he  was  born  and  educated. 
In  wtotever  direftion  I  turned  my  eyes,  \^^hether 
walking  or  fitting,  I  experienced  nearly  the  fame 
fenfation  which  Brydone  defcribes  himfelf  to  have 
felt  upon  the  top  of  iEtna.*  I  included  in  one  view 
the  city  of  Zurich,  the  fmiling  country  which  fur- 
rounds  it,  its  tranquil  and  expanded  lake,  and  the 
high  mountains  covered  with  frofi  and  fnow,  lifting 
their  majeftic  heads  to  Heaven.  A  divine  tra.nquil- 
lity  furrounded  me  while  I  bdield  this  fcen^. 

Upon  this  terrace  I  difcovered  the  myflay 
which  enabled  Lavater,  while  he  enjoyed  ib  deli- 
cious a  fenfation  of  his  exiflence  and  his  pow-ers,  to 


*  Brydone  fays,  **  In  proportion  as  we  are  raifed  above  the  habi- 
tations of  men,  all  low  and  .vulgar  fentinients  are  left  behind  j  and 
the  foul,  in  approaching  the  sethetial  regions,  ftiakes  oft"  its  earthly  af- 
ic4tiOfts,  ^ud  already  contraClb  fomething  of  their  inyariable  purity." 


Ihe  Influeiice  of  Solitude,  1l<y 

walk  calmly  through  the  ftreets  of  Zurich,  expofed" 
to  the  obie'rvations  of  the  critics  of  that  city,  who" 
were  in  the  daily  pradice  of  venting  their  abufe 
againft  him,  and  of  whom  he  fo  humbly  allred  par-- 
don  for  the  innocence  of  his  life,  Wfiich  at  leaft,  ac=. 
cording  to  the  laws,  they  were  unable  to  deftroy. 

Up  in  this  terrace  1  difcovered  the  caufe  of  his 
ftill  cherifhing  with  fuch  uufeigoed  tendernefs  his 
implacable  enemies,  thofe  learned  critics  of  Zurich, 
whofe  rage  the  found  of  his  name  was  iafficient  to 
excite,  who  felt  with  the  greateft  repugnance  eve- 
ry thing  that  was  praiie-worthy  in  his  character,  and 
expofed  with  the  higheil  feelings  of  joy  thofe  foibles 
and  defects  from  which  no  man  is  entirely^free  ; 
who  could  not  liften  without  fury  when  thofe  me- 
rits which  he  evidently  poflelled  were  prai'ed,  or  the 
demerits  which  they  were  unable  to  prove  were  ex- 
teauated  ;  who  rejecfled  with  averfion  all  the  trutlis 
which  appeared  to  be  in  his  favor,  and  eagerly  lif- 
tened,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  to  ail  the  calumnies 
which  tended  to  his  dilhonor ;  who  are  humbled  by- 
his  glory,  as  much  as  they  can  pofiibly  be  degraded 
by  their  own  infamy  ;  and  who  have  the  accom- 
plifhment  of  his  dilgrace  as  much  at  heart  as  their 
own  perfonal  advantage  ;  in  whofe  breafls  Lavater's 
happinefs  becomes  a  fource  of  miiery,  and  his  mis- 
fortunes  a  fountain  of  joy  ;  who  affe<ft  fuence  on 
the  virtues  they  are  conicious  he  poiTelTes,  and  loud- 
ly aggravate  defeats  which  they  induftrioufly  circu- 
late by  every  polifble  means,  rather  indeed  to  their 
own  injury,  than  to  his  difgrace,  for  by  thefe  means- 
they  frequently  increale  the  glory  which  they  feeb 
to  extinguifn ;  who  infiJiouuy  defire  the  impartial 
ftranger  to  fee  the  man,  and  judge  for  himfeif ;  and 
have  aLnofl  uniformly  the  mortification  of  perceiv- 
ing that  Lavater  is  found  to  polTefs  a  charac^ter  dia^- 
metrically  oppofite  to  thu.t  which  the  envenomicd 
tongues  and  pens  of  his  enemies  at  Zurich  liave  re- 
prefented. 


22o 


Th  Inj!ucncc  of  Solitude* 


At  the  village  of  Rich terfwy],  a  few  leagues 
from  Zurich,  ia  a  fuuation  ttiil  more  delicious  and 
ierene  than  even  that  of  Lavater,  furrounded  by 
every  obiecl  the  moft  fmiling,  beautiful  ahd  fubiime 
that  Swifierlaiid  preients,  dwells  a  celebrated  phy- 
fician.  His  foul  is  as  tranquil  and  iublime  as  the 
Icene  of  nature  which  furrounds  him.  His  habita- 
lion  is  the  temple  of  health,  friendfhip  and  every 
peaceful  virtue.  The  village  is  iiiuated  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  Lake,  at  a  place  v/here  two  proje(^lting 
points  of  land  formi  a  natural  bay  of  nearly  half  a 
league.  Oa  the  oppofite  fliores,  the  Lake,  which 
is  not  quite  a  league  in  extent,  is  inclofed  from  the 
north  to  the  eaft  by  pleafant  hills,  covered  with  vine 
leaves,  intermixed  with  fertile  meadows,  orchards, 
fields,  groves  and  thickets,  with  little  villages,  church- 
es, villas  and  cottages,  fcattered  up  and  down  the 
icene. 

A  wide  and  fnagnificent  amphitheatre,  which 
r.o  artift  has  yet  ventured  to  paint  except  in  del  ach- 
ed fcenes,  opens  itfelf  from  the  caft  to  the  fouth. 
The  view  towards  the  higher  part  of  the  lake,  which 
on  this  fide  15  four  leagues  long,  prefents  to  the  eye 
points  of  land,  dillant  iilands,  the  little  tovv'u  of 
Rapperfwll  built  on  the  fide  of  a  hill,  the  bridge  of 
w  hich  extends  itfelf  from  one  fide  of  the  lake  to  the 
other.  Beyond  the  to^^  n,  the  inexhauflible  valley 
rifcs  in  a  half-circle  to  the  (ighr.  Upon  the  firft 
ground-plot  is  a  peak  of  land,  with  hills  about  half 
a  league  diftant  from  each  other  ;  and  behind  thele 
riie  a  range  of  mouatahis,  covered  with  trees  and 
verdure,  and  iuterlperfed  with  villages  and  detach- 
ed lioufes.  In  the  back  ground  are  difcovered  the 
fertile  and  majefiic  Alps,  twilted  one  among  the 
other^  and  exhibiting  alternate  lhadows  of  the  light- 
cfi  an^.  darkei:  azure.  Behind  thefe  Alps,  rocks, 
covered  with  eternal  fnows,  rear  their  heads  to  the 
clouds.  Towards  the  foutn,  the  opening  of  the  am- 
phitheatre is  continued  by  a  new  chain  of  mountains. 


The  InfMence  of  Solitude  * 


2-2  % 


A  fcene  thus  enriched  always  appears  new,  roman-- 
tic  and  incompai  able. 

The  mountains  extend  ihemtelves  from  the 
fouth  to  the  weft  :  the  village  of  Richteriw\  1  is  fit- 
uated  at  their  feet  upon  the  banks  of  the  lake  :  deep 
forefts  of  firs  cover  the  fummit,  and  the  middle  is 
filled  with  fruit-trees,  interiperied  with  rich  fallows 
and  fertile  pafcures,  among  which,  at  certain  diftan- 
ces,  a  few  houfes  are  fcattered.  The  village  itfelf 
is  neat,  the  flreets  are  paved,  and  the  houfes,  built 
of  lione,  are  painted  on  the  out-fides.  Around  the 
village  are  walks  formed  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,, 
or  cut  through  fliady  foreits  to  the  hills ;  and  on 
every  fide  fcenes,  beautiful  or  fublime,  ftrike  the 
eye  while  they  ravifh  the  heart  of  the  admiring  trav- 
eller. H«  ftops,  and  contemplates  with  eager  joy 
thefe  accumulated  beauties ;  his  bofom  fwells  with 
excefs  of  pleafure ;  and  his  breath  continues  for  a 
time  fufpended,  as  if  fearful  of  interrupting  the  full- 
iiefs  of  his  delight.  Every  acre  of  this  charming 
country  is  in  the  highefl  degree  of  cultivation  and 
•mprovement.  No  part  of  it  is  fuffered  to  lie  un- 
tilled  ;  every  hand  is  at  work ;  and  men,  women, 
and  children,  from  infancy  to  age,  are  afi  ufefully 
employed. 

The  two  houfes  of  the  phyfician  are  each  of 
them  furrounded  by  a  garden ;  and,  although  fitu- 
ated  in  the  middle  of  the  village,  are  as  rural  and 
lequeftered  as  if  they  had  been  built  in  the  heart  of 
the  country.  I'hrough  the  gardens,  and  in  view  of 
the  chamber  of  my  dear  friend,  flows  a  limpid  ftream, 
on  the  oppofite  fide  of  which  is  the  great  road, 
where,  during  a  fucceflion  of  ages,  a  crowd  of  pil- 
grims have  almoft  daily  pafled  in  their  way  to  the 
convent  of  the  Hennitage.  From  thefe  houfes  and 
gardens,  at  about  the  diftance  of  a  league,  you  be- 
hold, towards  the  fouth,.  the  majeftic  Ezeberg  rear 
its  head  ;  black  forefts  conceal  its  top  ;  while  be- 
low, on  the  declivit  of  the  hill,  hangs  a  vilbge  with 
(XIX  2) 


^'2t  The  Influence  of  Solitude. 

a  beautiful  church,  on  the  fteeple  of  which  the  fun 
fufpends  its  departing  rays  every  evening  before  his 
courfe  is  finifhed.  In  the  front  is  the  lake  of  Zu- 
rich, whofe  unruffled  waters  are  fecured  from  the 
violence  of  tempefls,  and  whofe  tranfparent  furface 
refle6ls  the  beauties  of  its  del'ghtfal  banks. 

During  the  filence  of  night,  if  you  repair  to  the 
chamber  window,  or  indulge  in  a  lonely  walk 
through  the  gardens,  to  tafte  the  refrelhing  fcents 
which  exhale  from  the  fidrrounding  flowers,  whib 
the  mooQ,  riiing  above  the  mountains,  refledls  on 
liie  expanfe  of  the  lake  a  broad  beam  of  light ;  you 
hear,  during  this  awful  lleep  of  nature,  the  found 
of  the  village-clocks  echoing  from  the  oppoiite 
'bores  ;  and  on  the  Richterfwyl  lide  the  fhrill  proc- 
lamations of  the  watchmen  blended  with  the  bark- 
ings of  the  faithful  dog.  At  a  dittance  you  hear  the 
kittle  boats  foftly  gliding  down  the  ftream,  dividing 
the  water  with  their  oars  ;  you  perceive  them  crofs 
the  moon's  tranllucent  beam,  and  play  among  the 
fparkling  waves.  On  viewing  the  lake  of  Geneva 
."iQ  its  full  cxrenr,  the  m/ajefty  of  fuch  a  fubhme  pic- 
ture flrikes  the  ipectator  dumb  ;  he  thinks  that  he 
has  difcovered  the  chef  d'ocuvre  of  creation ;  but 
'here,  near  the  lake  ot  Zurich  at  Richterlwyl,  the 
objects,  being  upon  a  fmall  fcale,  are  more  foft, 
agreeable  and  touching. 

Riches  and  luxury  are  no  where  to  be  feen  in 
the  habitation  of  this  philanthropifl.  You  are  there 
feated  upon  matted  .chairs.  He  writes  upon  tables 
wrked  from  the  wood  of  the  country  ;  and  he  and 
his  friends  eat  on  earthen  plates.  Neatnefs  and 
convenience  reign  throughout.  Large  colle<ftions 
of  drawings,  paintings  and  engravings  are  his  fole 
expenfe.  The  firft  beams  of  Aurora  light  the  little 
chamber  where  this  philofophic  fage  lleeps  in  peace- 
■  ul  repofe,  and  open  his  eyes  to  every  new  day. 
Rifmg  from  his  bed,  he  is  faluted  by  the  cooings  of 


The  Influence  of  Solitude*  222 

he  turtle-doves,  and  the  morning  fong  of  birds  who 
1.1  jep  with  him  in  an  adjoining  chamber. 

The  firit  hour  of  the  morning,  and  the  laft  at 
■light,  are  (acred  to  himielf ;  but  he  devotes  all  the 
ntermediate  hours  of  the  day  to  the  alliibnce  of  a 
iileafed  and  aliiic'ted  multitude,  who  daily  attend 
:~iim  for  advice  and  afiiilance.    The  benevolent  ex-^ 
vcifeofhis  profeliion  engrolfes  every  moment  of 
:  iis  life,  but  it  alfo  conftitutes  his  happinefs  and  joy. 
All  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountains  of  Swilierland, 
as  well  as  of  the  valiies  of  the  Alps,  refort  to  his 
ihoufe,  and  vainly  feek  for  language  to  exprefs  the 
grateful  feelings  of  their  hearts.  They  are  perfuad- 
ed  that  the  do£lor  fees  and  knoM'S  every  thing ; 
'they  anfwer  his  queftions  with  franknels  and  iideli* 
ty  ;  they  iiilen  to  his  words,  treafure  up  his  advice 
like  grains  of  gold,  and  leave  him  with  more  regret, 
confolation,  hope  and  virtuous  refolutioo,  than  they 
quit  their  confelfors  at  the  Hermitage.    After  a  day 
fpent  in  this  manner,  can  it  be  imagined  that  any 
thing  is  wanting  to  complete  the  happinefs  of  this 
friend  of  mankind  ?  Yes  ;  when  a  fimple  and  ingen- 
uous female,  who  had  trembled  with  fear  for  the 
fafety  of  her  beloved  hufband,  enters  his  chamber, 
and,  feizing  him  fondly  by  the  hand,  exclaims— 
I"  My  huiband,  Sir,  was  very  ill  when  I  firft  came 
to  you ;  but  in  the  fpace  of  two  days  he  quite  re- 
covered.   O5  my  dear  Sir,  I  am  under  the  greatell: 
obligations  to  you  1"  this^  philanthropic  charafter 
feels  that  which  ought  to  fill  the  bofom  of  a  mon« 
:  arch  in  the  moment  when  he  confers  happinefs  011 
his  people. 

Of  this  defcription  is  the  country  of  Swiffer- 
land  where  Doclor  Hotze,  the  ablell  phyfician  of 
tlie  prefent  age,  refides ;  a  phyfician  and  philofo- 
pher,  whofe  pervading  genius,  profound  judgment, 
and  great  experience,  have  placed  him  with  Tiffot 
Hixzel,  the  deareft  friends  of  my  he?.rt.  It  is  in 
this  manner  he  paffes  the  hours  ^  his  hfe  j  all  uni« 


224  Influence  of  Mitude,  ,  1 

form,  and  all  of  them  happy  :  he  referves,  indeed,1 
only  two  hours  of  each  day  to  himfelF,  and  devotes: 
the  reft  to  the  relief  of  the  unfortunate  who  daily  ' 
vifit  him  in  this  celeftial  region.    His  mind,  active 
and  full  of  vigor,  never  feeks  repofe  ;  but  there  is  a  | 
divine  quietude  dwells  within  his  heart.  Alas!|| 
there  are  no  fuch  characters  to  be  found  at  court.  ' 
Individuals,  however,  of  every  defcription,  have  it 
in  their  power  to  tafte  an  equal  degree  of  happinefs, 
although  they  may  not  h-^ve  the  opportmiity  of  refi- 
diT!:g  ?.mid  Icenes  lo  delightful  as  thofe  which  the  lit- 
uation  of  my  beloved  Hotze  at  Richteriwyljthe  Con- 
vent of  Capuchins  near  Albano,  or  the  manfion  of 
my  fcvereign  at  Windfor,  affords. 

The  man  who  does  not  aflk  for  more  ecjoy- 
ments  than  he  polfelTes.  is  completely  happy.  Such 
a  feikity  is  eaiily  found  at  Richterfwyl,  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Lake  of  Zurich  ;  but  it  may  be  alfo 
more  eafiky  found  than  is  in  general  imagined,  even  * 
in  iuch  a  chamber  as  that  in  which  I  am  now  wri- 
ting this  Treatife  upon  Solitude,  where,  during  fev- 
en  years,  I  had  nothing  to  look  at  but  Ibme  broken 
tiles,  and  a  vane  upon  the  fpire  of  an  old  church. 

Content  muft  always  derive  its  Iburce  from  the 
heart ;  and  in  Solitude  the  bofom  dilates  more  ea- 
fily  to  receive  it,  with  all  the  virtues  by  which  it  is 
accompanied.  How  good,  how  affeftionate  does 
the  heart  become  on  the  border  of  a  clear  fpring,  or 
in  the  eDjoyment  of  a  calm  repofe  under  the  lhades 
of  a  branching  pine  !  In  Solitude  the  tranquilHty  of 
nature  glides  into  the  heart ;  but  in  fociety  we  find 
much  more  occafion  to  fly  from  ourfelves  than  from 
others.  1  c  be  at  peace  with  ourfelves,  we  muft  be. 
in  concord  with  all  mankind.  While  the  heart  ii 
tranqu-il,  the  mind  conliders  men  and  things  in  the^ 
moft  favorable  and  pleafmg  point  of  view.  In  rural 
retirements,  where  it  is  open  only  to  agreeable  fen- 
iations,  we  learn  to  love  our  fellow-creatures.  Wr.ile 
all  nature  fmiles  around  us^  and  our  fouls  overflow  I 

i 


The  Inf  twice  of  Solitude,  72^ 

with  benevolence,  we  wifb  for  more  hearts  than  one 
to  piirticipate  in  our  happinels. 

By  inild  and  peaceful  dirpofitions,  therefore, 
the  feli'cliies  of  domefiic  life  are  relifhed  in  a  much 
higher  degree  in  rural  retirement,  than  in  any  other 
fituation  whatever.  The  moft  iplendid  courts  in 
Europe  allbrd  no  joys  equal  totheie;  and  their  vain 
pleafures  can  never  ailuage  the  juitifiable  grief  of 
him  who,  ocntrary  to  his  inclination,  feels  himfelf 
torn  from  fach  a  felicity,  dragged  into  the  palaces  of 
kings,  and  obliged  to  conform  to  the  frivolous  life 
pra?f:fed  there,  where  people  do  nothing  but  game 
and  yawn,  and  am.ong  whom  the  reciprocal  com.- 
munication  of  languors,  hatred,  envy,  ilattery  and 
caiamny  alone  prevail.* 

It  is  in  rural  hfe  alone  that  true  pleafures,  the 
love,  the  honor,  and  the  chafce  manners  of  ancient 
days  are  revived.  RoufTeau,  therefore,  fays  with 
great  truth  to  the  inhabitants  of  cities,  that  the 
country  affords  pleafures  which  they  do  not  evea 
fufpeft ;  that  ihefe  pleafures  are  lefs  inll^id,  lefs  un- 
polifhed  than  they  conceive  ;  that  tafte,  variety  and 
delicacy  may  be  eojoyed  there;  that  a  m.an  of  me- 
rir,  who  retires  witii  his  family  into  the  country, 
and  turns  farmer,  w  ill  find  his  days  pais  as  pleafant- 
ly  as  in  the  moll  brilliant  allemblies ;  that  a  good 
houfe-wife  in  the  country  may  ^lib  be  a  charmiog 
woman,  a  woman  adorned  witii  every  agreeable 
qualification,  and  polTefs  graces  much  more  captiva- 
ting than  all  thole  prim  and  ailecSted  female^  v/hom 
we  fee  in  towns. 

The  mind  under  refrefhing  fhades,  in  agreea- 
ble vallies,  and  delightful  retreats,  forgets  all  the  un- 
pleafant  circumftances  it  encountered  in  tile  world. 


*  Madame  de  Mair.ienon  wrote  from  Marii  to  Madame  de  Cay- 
lus— '*  We  p.tlsour  lives  here  in  a  very  rint:alar  manner.  Wit,  gal- 
lantry and  cheer  Jivlnefs  lliould  prevail;  but  of  all  chele  qualities  w  <* 
aie  totally  deititute  :  we  gaoic,  yawn,  fatigue  ourfelves  j  reciprocally 
receive  and  communicac^;  vexatioas  j  hate,  envy,  carets,  and  calunini- 
ate  each  other." 


226 


The  Infiucnce  of  Solitude' 


The  moP:  ^M-ofiigate  and  wicked  characters  are  no 
longer  remem leered  in  fociety,  when  they  are  no 
longer  jeen.  It  is  only  in  the' tumultuous  fcenes  of^ 
civil  life,  and  under  the  heavy  yoke  of  fubordina- 
tion,  that  the  continual  ihock  of  reaion  and  good 
(enie,  againlt  the  liupidity  of  thole  who  govern, 
(breads  a  torrent  of  miftrics  over  human  life.  Fools 
in  power  render  the  lives  of  their  inferiors  bitter, 
poilbn  their  pleafures,  overturn  all  focial  order, 
ipn  ad  thorns  in  "the  path  of  thofe  who  have  more 
underitanding  than  ihemfelves,  and  make  this  world 
a  vale  of  diicouragement,  indignation  and  tears. 
O !  that  men  of  honor  at  court,  brave  and  ilvilful 
generals,  able  agents,  fnould  have  a  right  to  ex- 
claim with  the  phibrcpher — Had  i  but  the  wings 
of  a  dove,  that  I  might  fly  where  my  inclination 
leads  me,  and  fix  my  dweiiing  as  chance  might  di- 
re6i^5  I  would  take  a  diflant  night,  and  continue  in 
the  defart  I  I  would  haften  to  eicape  from  the  tern- 
pefi for  I  perceive  hypocriiy,  malice,  falfehood 
and  difeafe  prevail  at  court,  in  the  armv,  and  in  the 
city." 

Stupidity,  when  it  has  gained  credit  and  author- 
ity, becomes  more  dangerous  and  hurtful  thaE  any 
ether  quality ;  it  always  inclines  to  render  every 
thing  as  little  as  itfelf,  gives  to  every  thing  a  falfe 
name,  and  miflakes  every  chara'5rer  for  the  oppofite 
to  what  it  really  it, ;  in  a  word,  ftripidity  always  calls 
white  black,  and  black  white.  IvTen  of  frank,  hon- 
eft,  liberal  difpofitions,  therefore,  if  they  would  ef- 
cape  from  his  perfecution,  muft  learn  ail  hi^s  tricks 
and  all  his  turnings,  as  well  as  the  fox  of  Saadi,  the 
Indian  fabulifl. 

A  perfoQone  dayobferving  a  fox  running  with 
great  fpeed  tov/ards  his  hole,  called  out  to  him^ — 
Reynard,  where  are  you  running  in  fo  great  a 
hurry  ?  Have  you  done  any  mifchief  tor  which  you- 
are  fearful  of  being  puniilied  "  No,  Sir,"  re- 
plied the  fox,    my  confcience  is  dxu^  and  does  not 


The  Influence  of  Solitude,  227 

n-oach  me  with  any  thing  ;  but  I  have  jufl  ovcr- 
/.eurd  the  hunters  wiih  that  they  h?A  a  camel  to 
hunt  this  morning."—"  Well,  but^how  does  that 
concern  you  ?  "You  are  not  a  camel." — O  !  Sir," 
replied  the  fox,  fagacious  heads  cJways  have  en- 
emies. If  any  one  fnouid  point  me  out  to  tlie  huntf- 
jnen,  and  lay,  There  runs  &  camel,  thofe  geutlenien 
would  immediately  feize  me,  and  load  me  vAth 
chains,  without  once  inquiring;?  whether  I  was  in 
fac^  the  kind  of  animal  the  informer  had  defcribed 
me  to  be.'*"*  _ 

Reynard  was  perfectly  right  in  his  obfervation  : 
but  it  is' lamentable  that  men  ihould  be  wicked  in 
proportion  as  they  are  iiupid,  or  thai  they  fuould 
be  wicked  only  becaufe  they  are  envious.  If  I 
Ihould  ever  become  the  object  of  their  v/rath,  be- 
caui'e  tliey  conceived  that  I  enjoyed  more  happinefs 
than  themieives,  and  it  were  impoflible  for  me  to 
efcape  from  their  perfecutions,  I  would  only  revenge 
myfelf  by  letting  ihem  perceive  that  no  man  living 
is  to  me  an  objed  of  fcandal. 

Nothi'jg  can  wound  the  felf-love  of  that  breaft 
which  feels  no  defire  for  more  than  it  pofleffes.  The 
calm  temper  which  refalts  from  a  life  fir  i^e,  regu- 
lar and  ferene,  guards  the  heart  agai^/?che  excefs 
of  defire.  By  living  in  coiitiuual  c^'-^munion  with 
ourielves,  we  unavoidably  perceir'hQW/; deficient 
we  are  in  many  of  thofe  qualiiicatioiis  whiq^pin  the 
opinion  of  others,  v/e  are  fuppofed  to  poflefs-i^n  the 
advantages  we  gain,  as  well  as  all  the  happidefe  we 
feel,  appear  in  confequence  to  b;-  the  eiis6l  of  favcrs 
conferred  on  us.  This  reafon  alone  renders  it  im- 
polTible  that  we  fliould  repine  at  the  happinefs  of 
another ;  for  candor  will  force  a  man  who  lives  con- 
tinually by  himfelf,  and  acls  with  fmcerity  of  heart, 
to  reflecl  r^pon  his  own  defeats,  and  to  do  juftic^  to 
the  fuperior  merit  of  other  men. 

"  I  fhould  wifh  10  end  my  days  in  the  delight- 
ful Solitudes  of  Laufanne/'  fay^  a  French  hiiloriaa 


S  2  3  TJje  Influence  cf  Solitude.  I 

cf  that  province,  "  far  retired  from  the  tumnltnousi 
fcenes  of  thewcrki,  from  avarice,  and  from  deceit  J 
ill  thofe  Solitudes,  where  a  tboufand  irnocent  plea-'' 
lures  are  enjoyed  and  renewed  without  end  :  there 
we  efcape  from  profligate  difcourfe,  from  unmean-^ 
ing  chstter,  from  envy,  detr?.ciion  and  jealoufyJ 
Upon  thofe  fmiling  plains,  the  extent  of  which  Xhm 
aftonifhed  eye  is  incapable  of  meafuring,  it  is  impoCil 
fible  to  fee,  without  admiring  the  goodnefs  of  the 
Divine  Creator,  lb  many  different  animals  wander- 
ing peaceably  aT;ong  each  other  ;  fo  many  birds 
making  the  woods  re-echo  to  their  fongs ;  fo  many 
wonders  of  nature,  which  invite  the  mind  to  filent 
contemplation." 

It  appears  to  me,  that  to  whatever  place  in 
Germany  you  turn  your  eyes,  you  find  in  every 
peaceful  family,  as  in  the  Solitudes  of  Laufanne, 
more  pure  and  genuiue  pleafures  than  are  ever  feen  ' 
in  fafhionable  life.  The  induftrious  citizen  who  re- 
turns in  the  evening  to  his  wiie  and  children,  after 
having  honorably  performed  the  labors  of  the  day, 
is  without  doubt  as  contented  as  any  courtier.  If 
the  voice  of  the  public  and  his  fellow-citizens  do  not  ; 
render  to  a  man  of  bufmefs  the  juftice,  efteem  and  ; 
honor,  whidi  his  character  merits  ;  if  his  zeal  and  \ 
good  vvorks  meet  v/ith  negleft,  and  are  treated  with  i 
ingratitudj^add  rontempt ;  his  mind  will  foon  for-  , 
get  the^fljtinice,  when  he  returns  to  the  bofom  of  j 
his  happy  familv,  fees  their  arms  open  ready  to  re-  ' 
ceive  •  him,  and  obtains  from  them  the  praife  and  \ 
approbadon  which  he  truly  merits.   "With  what  de-  1 
light  his  heart  feels  the  value  of  their  fondnefs  and  I 
aneftion !  If  the  eclat  of  fafhionable  life,  the  fplen- 
dor  of  courts,  the  triumph  of  pov/er  and  grandeur, 
have  left  his  bofom  coii  and  comfcrtlefs ;  if  the 
bafe  practices  of  fraud,  falfehood,  hypotrlfy,  and 
puerile  vanities,  have  irritated  and  foured  his  mind  r, 
be  no  fooner  mixes  in  the  circle  of  thofe  whom  h  - 
cherilhes,  than  a  genial  vv'armth  re-animates  his  ^^^^ 


71)e  Influence  Gf  Solititch.  t2tJ 

je<fi:ad  heart,  the  tendereH:  fentiments  infpire  his 
ibul  with  courage,  and  the  truth,  freedom,  probity 
and  innocence  by  which  he  is  furrounded,  recon- 
cile him  to  the  lot  of  humanity.  If,  on  the  contra- 
ry, he  fhould  enjoy  a  more  brilliant  lituation,  he 
I  the  favorite  of  a  min^fter,  the  companion  of  the 
:  great,  loved  by  the  women,  and  admired  in  every 
public  place  as  the  leader  of  the  fafnicn  ;  fhould  his 
itation  be  high,  and  his  fortunes  rich,  but  his  dwel- 
ling prove  the  feat  of  difcord  and  jealoufy,  and  the 
bufom  of  his  family  a  flranger  to  that  peace  which 
the  wife  and  virtuous  tafte  under  a  rcof  of  thatch, 
would  all  the  dazzling  pleafares  cojnpenfate  for  this 
irxcpr.rable  iofs  ? 

Thefe  are  my  fentiments  cn  the  advantages 
which  Solitude  pofTeffes  to  reconcile  us  to  the  lot  of 
humanity  and  the  practices  of  the  world ;  but  I 
fhall  here  only  cite  the  words  of  another ;  the  words 
of  a  Doftor  of  Divinity  of  the  fame  tenets  with 
myfelf ;  a  judicious  theologian,  v/ho  dees  not  incul- 
cate imperious  declines,  or  propagate  a  religion 
which  offends  the  heart.  They  are  the  words  of 
his  Sermon  upon  Domeflic  Happinefs,  of  that  in- 
comparable difcourfe  which  men  of  every  defcrip- 
tion  ought  to  read,  as  well  as  all  other  fermons  of 
Zollikofer. 

"  Sohtude,"  fays  this  divine,  "  fecures  us  fi'cm 
the  afprrlions  of  light  and  frivolous  minds,  from  the 
upjuft  contempt  and  and  harfh  judgment  of  the  en- 
vious ;  preferves  us  from  the  afflicting  fpe6lacle  of 
follies,  crimes  and  mifery,  which  fo  frequently  dil- 
graces  the  theatre  of  L^L^tive  and  focial  life ;  extin- 
guifhes  the  fire  of  thofe  pafTions  which  are  too  Uvelv 
and  ardent ;  and  eft^/bliilies  peace  in  our  hearts.'' 

Thefe  are  the  fentim^ents  of  my  beloved  Zolli- 
kofer ;  the  trutQ  of  which  I  have  experienced. 
When  my  enemies  conceived  that  accidents,  how- 
ever trifling,  would  trouble  my  repcfe ;  when  I  was 
iold  with  what  fatisfa^lion  the  Coteries  w^oiUd  hear 
'  (XX) 


i|0  7he  Influence  of  Solitude^ 

of  my  didrefs,  that  ks  bcUcs  darjics  would  leap  for 
joy,  and  form  a  clufter  round  the  man  who  detailed 
the  injuries  I  had  received,  and  thofe  which  were 
yet  in  itore  for  me,  I  {'aid  to  myi'elf,  "  Although  1 
my  enemies  have  fworn  to  aiiii^l  me  with  a  thou-  I 
fand  deaths,  what  harm  can  they  really  do  me  ?  I 
What  can  epigrams  and  pleafantries  prove  ?  What  I 
fling  do  thofe  ratirical  engravings  carry,  which  they  I 
have  taken  the  pains  to  circulate  through  every  part  M 
■of  Swiflerland  and  Germ.any  ?"  \ 

Th.e  thorns  over  which  the  fteady  foot  walks 
unhurt,  or  kicks  from  beneath  it  wi^h  contempt,  in- 
fli^L  wounds  and  ulcers  only  upon  effeminate  minds, 
who  feel  that  as  a  feri:us  injury  which  others  think 
noticing  of.  Characters  of  this  defcriptiou  require 
to  be  treated  like  the  flowers  of  young  plants,  with 
delicacy  and  attention,  and  cannot  bear  the  touch  of 
rude  and  violent  hands.  But  he  who  has  exercifed 
his  powers  in  the  greatefi  dangers,  and  has  combat- 
ed with  adverfity,  who  fe^ls  his  foul  fuperior  to  the 
falfe  opinions  and  prejudices  of  the  world,  neither 
iecs  nor  feels  the  blow ;  he  refigns  trifles  to  the  nar- 
rov/  minds  which  they  occupy,  and  looks  down  with 
courage  and  c  :ntempt  tipon  the  vain  boaltings  of 
fuch  miferable  inlets. 

To  forget  the  fury  of  our  enemies,  the  aflifl:- 
ance  of  foft  zephyrs,  clear  fpring^,  well-stored  riv- 
ers, thick  fcreils,  refrefhing  grottos,  verdant  banks, 
or  fields  aiorned  with  flov/ers,  is  not  alv/ays  necef- 
:fary.  O  how  fcon,  in  the  tranquiUity  of  retire- 
men*',  every  antipathy  is  obliterated  !  All  the  little 
crcfTes  of  liie,  all  the  obloquies,  every  iajuilice,  ev- 
ery low  and  trilling  care  vaniih  like  fmcke  before 
him  who  has  courage  to  live  according  to  his  own 
taHie  and  inchnation.  That  which  we  do  volunta- 
rily is  alv/ays  more  agreeable  than  th'it  which  we 
do  by  compurnoD.  The  reilramts  of  the  world, 
and  the  flavery  of  fociety,  alone  can  poifon  the  plea- 
lures  of  free  minds,  deprive  them  cf  every  fa^isfao 


The  Influence  of  Mitude*  l^j 

lion,  content  and  pDwer,  even  when  phcediua 
fphere  of  elegance,  eafy  in  fortune,  and  lurroundeil 
by  abundance. 

Solitude,  therefore,  not  only  brings-  quietude 
to  the  heart,  renders  it  kind  and  virtuous,  andrai- 
I  fes  it  above  the  malevolence  of  envy,  wickednels 
I  and  ftupidity,  but  affords  advantages  fcill  more  val- 
uable. Liberty,  true  liberty,  is  no  where  fo  eafily 
found  as  in  a  diftant  retirement  from  the  tumults  of 
men  and  every  forced  conueclion  with  the  world. 
It  has  been  truly  laid,  that  in  Solitude  Man  recov- 
ers from  that  diftra(fi:ion  which  had  torn  him  froin 
himlelf ;  that  he  feels  in  his  mind  a  clear  and  inti-r 
mate  knowledge  of  what  he  is,  and  of  what  he  had 
been ;  that  he  lives  more  withia  himfelt  and  for 
himfelf  than  in  external  objeds  ;  that  he  enters  into 
the  ftate  of  nature  and  freedom ;  no  longer  play? 
an  artificial  part,  no  longer  repref°nts  a  different 
perfonage,  but  thinks,  fpeaks  and  a<!l:s  according  to 
his  proper  chara(Si:er  and  fentiments ;  that  he  difcov- 
ers  the  whole  extent  of  his  nature,  and  does  not  ad' 
beyond  it ;  that  he  no  longer  dr.  aSs  a  fevere  maimer, 
an  imperious  tyrant ;  that  he  ridicules  no  one,  and 
is  himftlf  proof  agaii.ff  the  (h-^-f  s  of  calumny  ;  that 
neither  the  conffraints  cf  bufm<  is  nor  the  ceremo- 
nies of  falhion  diiquiet  his  mind  ;  but,  breaking 
through  the  ffi?xkle3  of  fcrvile  haiDit  and  arbitrary 
cuffom,  he  thinks  with  confidence  and  courage,  and 
the  inleniibihties  of  his  heart  refjgn  themfelves  to 
the  fentiments  of  his  mind. 

Madame  de  Staal^  cor.fidered  it  as  a  great  and 
vulgar  errcr  to  fuppofe  that  freedom  and  liberty 
could  be  enjoyed  at  court ;  where,  even  in  the  iLofc 
minute  adions  cf  our  lives,  we  are  obliged  to  ob- 
it^rve  fo  many  different  things ;  where  it  is  impoOi- 
ble  to  think  al®ud  ;  where  our  fentiments  mriil  be 
regulated  by  the  circumliances  of  thci'e  around  us ; 
u  here  every  perfon  we  approach  leems  to  poffefs 
the  right  of  fcrutinizing  cur  characters ;  and  whae 


7he  Influence  Solitii^, 

we  nev^r  Mve  the  fm?.lleft  enjoyment  of  ourfelves. 
"  The  enjoyment  of  one's  ftlf/'  fays  fhe,  "  can  on- 
ly^ be  found  in  Solitude.  It  was  withia  the  v/alls 
of  the  B?itile  that  1  Mt  became  acquainted  with 

Men  o'iiberal  miads  a.re  as  ill  qualified  by  na- 
ture to  be  chamberlains,  and  at  the  head  of  the  et- 
iquette of  a  court,^  as  wcnien  are  to  be  rcUgieufes, 
The  courtier  is  fearful  of  every  thing  he  ftes,  is  al- 
^vays  upon  the  watch,  incefiantly  tormented  by  an 
everlafting  fufp'cioii  ;  yet,  noiwitiidanding  ail  this, 
he  muii  preierve  the  face  of  lerenity  and  fatisfac- 
rion  ;  and,  l.ke  the  C/ld  Vv'oman,  he  always  lights  one 
taper  to  Michad  the  Archangel,  ani  another  to  the 
iJwvilj  becauie  he  does  ne  t  know  for  which  of  them 
he  may  have  the  moil  occrfioc. 

Such  precautions  and  conftraints  are  infupport- 
able  to  every  man  wiio  is  not  form.ed  by  nature  for 
a  ccurder.  In  fituatiocs,  therefore,  lets  conneded 
with  the  world,  men  of  hberal  minds,  found  undcr- 
itandings,  and  active  dirp,:fiLions,  break  all  the  chains 
by  which  they  are  withheld.  To  find  any  pleafure 
in  the  fumes  of  fafliion,  it  is  necelTary  to  haveh-een 
trs/med  up  In  the  habits  of  a  court.  The  defe6i  of 
judgment  which  reigns  in  courts,  without  doubt, 
magnifies  the  mofl:  trifling  details  into  matters  of 
high  importance :  and  the  long  conflraint  which  the 
foul  there  endure?,  makes  many  things  appear  eafy 
to  a  ccurtier,  w^hich,  for  want  of  habit,  would  carry 
torment  to  the  bofom  of  another.  Who  has  not 
experienced  v/hat  it  is  to  be  forced  to  remain  fixed 
upon  one's  chair,  and  to  talk  an  wh'  )le  evening,  even 
in  common  lociety,  withcut  knowing  on  v/hat  iiib- 
jeft  to  converfe,  and  of  courie  v/i'hout  being  able 
to  fay  any  thing  ?  Who  hr:s  not  orcidh^i  ally  found 
himfelf  in  company  with  thofe  who  wdiiingly  liften 
to  fenfible  converfation,  but  never  contribute  a  fin- 
ale idea  to  the  promotion  of  it  themfelves  ?  Who 
has  not  feeu  his  thoughts  fall  upon  a  miad  fo  bar- 


Tlje  Injlisrnct  of  Solitude.  2Tf  j 

ren,  that  they  produce  no  return ;  and  Aide  tiirough 
the  ears  of  h'is  auditors  like  water  cpon  oil-cloih? 

How  many  men  of  contemplative  minds  are 
the  {laves  of  fools  and  madmen  \  How  many  ration- 
al beings  pafs  their  lives  in  bondage,  by  being  un- 
fortunately attached  to  a  worthlefs  fa<^lion !  How 
many  men  of  excellent  underllandings  are  condemn- 
ed to  perforin  a  pitiful  part  in  many  provincial 
towns  i  The  company  of  a  man  who  laughs  at  eve- 
ry thing  that  is  honorable,  and  rejects  thofe  ienti- 
ments  which  kad  to  love  and  elleem,  foon  becomes 
infupportable.  There  are  no  worfe  tyrants  thaa 
the  prejudices  of  mankind,  and  the  fervitude  of  lib- 
eral minds  becomes  more  weighty  in  proportion  to 
the  public  ignorance.  To  form  a  ferious  thought 
of  pleafmg  in  public  life,  is  vain  ;  for  to  fucceed  in 
fuch  an  endeavor,  we  muft  facrifice  all  thought, 
give  up  every  real  fentiment  of  the  fcul,  defpife  ev- 
ery thing  that  a  man  of  under ftanding  and  good 
fenfe  defpifes,  or  elfe,  by  blindly  dafliing  forv/ard 
upon  ailoccauons,  hazard  content,  tranquilUty,  and 
fortune. 

^  A  rural  refidence,  cr  a  tranquil  and  domeftlc 
life  in  town,  will  fecure  us  from  thefe  conftraints, 
and  is  the  only  means  of  rendering  us  free  and  in- 
depeadent  of  taofe  fituations  which  are  iioftile  to  the 
mmd  and  repugnant  to  good  fenfe.  But  if  Solitude 
c light  to  be  free  from  conftraint,  we  muft  neither 
~  -take  the  habit  of  monarehifm,  nor,  like  the  Doge  of 
.  .yeuice,  wear  the  diadem  of  fovereignty.  This  ab- 
je6t  11  we  cannot  vifit  a  friend,  nor  receive  a  foreign 
ambalTador,  without  a^  ipecial  permiflion  from  the 
Senate  for  the  purpofe.  He  is  indeed  fo  wretched,^ 
that  every  one  is  compelled  to  acknowledge  that 
Solitude  and  dependence  are  the  higheft  preroga- 
tives of  his  crown. 

The  foul,  when  neither  clogged,  nor  withheld,, 
nor  tormented  by  furrounding  obje^s,  becomes  fen- 
fibiCj,  in.  Solitude,  of  its  powers,  and  attains  a  clear 
(,XX  2): 


2^^4  The  Influence  cf  Mtude. 

r.nd  intimate  knowledge  of  its  prefent  flate,  and  of 
"what  jt  is  able  to  perform.  Liberty  and  leifure, 
therefore,  always  render  a  rational  ard  a^live  mind 
indifferept  to  every  other  kind  of  happinefs. 

Sohtuda  and  the  love  of  liberty  rendered  all 
the  pleafures  of  the  world  odious  to  the  mind  of 
Petn^.rch.  In  his  old  age  h.e  was  fclicited  to  oiHciate 
as  Secretary  to  different  Popes,  at  whatever  ialary 
he  thought  proper  to  nx  ;  ?.nd  ^r^deed  every  induce- 
iTient  that  emolument  could  afford,  was  infidioufly 
made  ufe  of  to  turn  his  views  that  way.  But  Pe- 
trarch replied,  "  Riches  acq\iired  at  the  expenceof 
liberry  are  the  cauie  of  real  mifery  :  a  yoke  made 
of  gold  or  fiiver,  is  not  lei's  GppreiTive  than  if  made 
of  wood  or  lead."  He  repreiented  to  his  patrons 
and  fritnds,  that  he  could  not  perfuade  himfelf  to 
give  up  his  hbcrty  and  his  leifure,  becaufe,  in  his 
cpinion,  the  wwld  aiforded  no  wtalth  of  equal  val- 
ue ;  -  that  he  could  not  renounce  the  pleaiures  of 
f:ien:e  ;  that  he  had  defpifed  riches  at  a  time  when 
he  was  racft  in  need  of  them,  and  it  would  be  fiiame- 
ful  to  feek  them  .nov/,  when  it  was  more  eafy  fcr 
him  to  do  without  them  :  that  he  fhould  appcrnou 
the  prcvifion  fcr  his  journey  according  to  the  dif- 
tanc:;  he  had  to  travd  ;  and  that  having  almr.fl  \\\?.cY^^ 
ed  the  end  of  his  cjurfe,  he  ought  to  think  more  of 
his  reception  at  the  1211  than  of  his  expences  onihs 
road. 

A  dift?fle  of  the  manners  of  a  court  led  Pe- 
trarch hito  Solitude  when  he  was  only  three-and- 
twenty  years  of  age,  although  in  his  outward  ap- 
nearance,  iu  his  attention  to  drefs,  and  even  in  hi^ 
coniVitution,  he  p.-ffdled  every  thing  that  could  be 
expected  from  a  c^  ;mplete  courtier,  lie  was  in  ev- 
ery relpe^L  formed  to  pleafe  :  the  beauty  of  his  fig- 
ure caufed  people  to  itop  ip  the  ftreer,  and  point 
hnn  out  as  he  walked  aionir.  His  eyes  were  bright, 
and  full  of  fire  ;  and  his  lively  countenance  pro- 
daimed  ths- vivacity  of  his  miud.   'ilie  frjefheft  cd- 


The  Injluence  of  Solkudc, 


^3^ 


or  adorned  his  cheeks;  his  features  were  diilinct 
•and  manly  ;  his  Inape       acd  elegant  ;  his  perfon 

\11,  and  his  prefence  noble.    The  genial  climate  of 
/xvignon  increafed  the  warmth  of  his  conflitution. 
i  he  fire  of  youth,  the  beauty  of  fo  m.any  women 
rifembled  zt  the  Coun  of  the  Pope  from  every  na- 
tion in  Europe,  and  abjve  211,  the  diflblute  manners 
of  the  Court,  led  hini,  very  early  in  hfe,  into  con- 
nections with  women.    A  great  portion  of  the  day 
was  fpent  at  his  toilette  in  ihe  decorations  of  t^refs. 
His  habit  was  always  white,  and  the  leaii:  (pot  or, 
an  improper  fold  gave  h's  m.ind  the  greatefi:  uneall-  ^ 
re's.   Even  in  the  fafnion  of  his  fhoes  he  avoided 
every  form  that  appeared  to  him  inelegant  j  they 
were  extremely  tight,  and  cramped  his  feet  to  luch 
a  degree,  that  it  would  in  ^  a  (hcrt  time  have  been 
impoflible  for  him.  to  w:lk,  if  he  had  not  reccilecled 
that  it  vi^s  much  better  to  (hock  the  eyes  of  the 
ladies  t'".an  to  make  hiinfelf  a  cripple.    In  v/alking 
throu[j:h  the  ftreet3,he  endeavored  to  avoid  the  rude- 
nefs  of  the  wind  by  every  p  jlFible  means  ;  not  tiiat 
.he  was  afraid  of  tr.king  coid,  but  becaufe  he  was 
fearful  that  the  drefs  of  ins  hair  might  be  deranged. 
A  iove,  hov/ever,  m.uch  more  elevated  and  ardent, 
for  virtue  and  me  belies  kttres^  always  counterbalan- 
ced his  devotion  to  the  fair  fex.  In  truth,  to  exprefs 
his  paffioa  for  the  fex,  he  wrote  aU  his  poetry  in 
Italian,  and  only  ufed  the  learned  languages  upon 
ferious  and  important  fubjefts.    But  notwithftand- 
ing  the  warmth  of  his  conllitution,  he  was  always 
chafte.    He  heli  ail  debauchery  in  the  utmoft  de- 
teication  ;  repentanca  and  difguft  immediately  feized 
\\.%  mind  up^a  the  ihghteii:  indulgence  with  the  fex  ; 
and  he  often  regretted  the  fenfibiUty  of  his  feelings  : 

I  ilnuld  hke,''  faid  he,  "  to  h:;ve  an  heart  as  hard 
as  aduraant,  rather  than  be  fo  coatinually  torment- 
ed by  fuch  f.'dacing  paflions."  .  Among  the  num- 
bssr  of  iin^  women,  however,  who  adorned  the 
Ggurt  of  Avigaoii,  there  were-fome  who  eadeav.or^ 


2^6  Tk  InJJucnce  of  Sotitude^ 

ed  to  captivate  the  heart  of  Petnirch.  Seduceclby 
their  charms,  and  drawn  allde  by  the  facility  with 
which  he  obtained  the  happiuefs  of  their  company'', 
he  became  upon  cloi'er  acquaintance  obedient  to  all 
their  wifhes  ;  but  the  inquietudes  and  torments  of 
lovefo  much  alirmed  his  raind,  that  he  endeavored 
to  fhun  its  toils.     Before  his  acquaintance  v/ith 
Laura,  he  was  wilder  than  a  ilag  ;  but,  if  tradition 
is  to  be  believed,  he  hi;d  not,  ar  the  age  of  thirty- 
five,  any  occafion  to  reproach  himlelf  with  mifcon- 
ducl.    The  fear  of  God,  the  idea  of  death,  the  love 
•cf  virtue,  the  principles  of  religion',-  the  fruits  of  the 
educadon  he  receiv.^d  from  his  mother,  preferved 
him  from  numerous  dangers  by  which  he  was  fur- 
rounded.    1  he  practice  of  the  Civil  Law  was  at 
this  period  the  only  road  to  eminence  at  the  Court 
cf  the  Pope ;  but  Petrarch  held  the  Law  in  deteft- 
ation,  and  reprobated  this  venal  trade.    Previous  to 
devoting  himfelf  to  the  Church,  he  exercifed  for 
ibme  lime  the  profeflion  of  an  advocate,  and  gained 
many  caufes  ;  but  he  reproached  himfelf  with  it  af- 
terwards,     in  my  youth,"  fays  he,  "  I  devoted, 
myfelf  to  the  trade  of  leliiBg  words,  or  rather. of  tell- 
inglies ;  but  that  which  we  do  ?g3inft  our  inclina--j 
tions,  is  feldom  attended  v-ith  fuccefs.    My  fond- j 
nefs  v/as  for  Solitude,  and  I  therefore  attended  the! 
praClice  of  the  bar  v/ith  the  greater  detefuation.'' 
The  fecret  confciouhiels  which  Petrarch  entertained 
of  his  ov/n  merit,  gave  him,  it  is  true,  all  the  vain^ 
confidence  of  youth  ;  and  filled  his  mind  with  that 
lofty  fpirit  which  begets  the  prefumption  of  being 
equal  to  every  thing ;  but  his  inveterate  hatred  of 
the  manners  of  the  Court  impeded  his  exertions^ 
I  have  no  hope,^'  faid  he  in  the  thirty- £fth  year 
cf  his  age,  "of  making  my  fortune  in  the  Court 
of  the  V  icar  of  Jefus  Chriu  :  to  accomplilh  that,  I 
mult  afliduouily  vifit  the  palaces  of  the  great  ;  I 
mud  flitter,  lie,  and  deceive."   Petrarch  was  not 
capable  of  doing  this.  lie  neither  hat^  men  nor 


Tlje  hifluence  of  Solitude.  '^2:3  7 

iiliked  advancement,  but  he  detefted  the  ir-eing 
t  Q-at  he  muil:  neceffarily  ufe  to  attain  it.  He  loved 
glory,  and  ardently  fought  it,  though  not  by  the 
ways  in  which  it  is  generally  obtained.  He  delight- 
ed to  walk  in  the  moft  unfrequented  paths,  and  in 
c;nfeqaence!^J3  renounced  the  world.  ' 

Theaverficii  which  Petrarch  felt  to  the  man- 
ners which  are  pecuf  ar  to  Courts,  was  the  particu- 
lar occafion  of  his  FJayupon  Solitude.  In  the  year 
1^46  he  was,  as  uiual,  during  Lent^  at  Vaucliife. 
The  Bifn  "sp  of  Cavailian,  anxious  to  enter  into  con- 
•verfation  with  nim,  and  to  tafle  the  fruits  of  Soli- 
tuie,  fixed  his  rendence  at  his  caiile,  which  is  fiiua- 
ted  upon  the  fuminit  of  an  high  rock,  and  appears 
to  be  conftrufted  more  for  the  habitadon  of  birds 
than  men ;  at  prefsnt  the  ruins  of  it  only  remain  to 
be  feen.  All  th-iit  ths  Bifhop  and  Petrarch  had  feea 
at  Avignon  and  Naples  had  inlpired  them  with  dif- 
guft  of  relidence  in  citi-^s,  and  the  higheff  contempt 
for  the  manners  of  a  Court.  They  weighed  all  the 
unpbafant  circumflanqlg  they  had  before  experien-. 
ced,  and  oppofed  the  fjtuations  which  produced 
them  to  the  advantages  of  Solitude.  This  was  the 
ufual  fubjed:  of  their  con  verfation  at  the  caftle,  and 
that  which  gave  birvh  in  the  mind  of  Petrarch  to 
the  refohition  of  exploring,  and  uniting  into  one 
work,  all  his  ovrn  ideas  and  thofe  of  others  upon 
this  delightful  fubjed:.  This  work  was  begun  in 
Lent  and  ii?:ifhed  at  Eafter^  but  he  revifed  and  cor- 
rected it  afterwards,  making  many  alterations,  and 
adding  every  thi  g  which  occurred  to  his  mind  pre- 
vious 1:0  the  publication.  It  was  not  till  (he  year 
n^66,  (twenty  years  afterwards)  that  he  fent  it  to 
the  Bifhop  of  Cavaillcn,  to  whom  it  was  dedicated. 

If  all  that  I  have  faid  of  Petrarcli  in  the  courfe 
of  this  work,  were  to  be  colltiTted  into  one  point 
of  view,  it  would  be  feen  vrhat  very  important  fa- 
crifices  he  made  to  Solitude.  But  his  mind  and 
ills  heart  were  .framed  10  enjoy  the  advantages  it 


^3  ^  Injluencc  of  SolituJ:, 

afford?,  with  a  degree  of  delight  fuperior  to  tliat  i 
which  ciny  other  perlon  ccuLi  have  enjoyed  thein 
and  all  this  happinefs  he  obtained  from  his  cifgu 
to  a  court,  and  from  his  love  of  hberty. 

The  love  of  liberty  was  alfo  the  caufe  of  Rouf 
feau's  feeling  fo  violent  a  d'^ufi  for  Society,  an 
in  Solitude  became  the  fonrce  of  all  his  pleafure 
His  letters  to  M.  de  Malh.rbo  are  as  remarkable 
for  the  information  they  afford  of  the  true  genius 
of  the  writer,  as  are  his  Ccnfeflions,  which  have 
not  been  better  under Itood  than  his  eharacler.  He 
writes  in  one  of  them,  "I  miflock  for  a  great  length 
of  time,  the  caufe  of  that  invincible  difguil  which 
i  have  always  felt  in  the  commerce  of  the 
world.  I  attributed  rt  to  the  mortification  of 
net  pzfTefling  that  quick  and  ready  talent  necc-fTary 
to  difcover  in  converfation  the  little  knowledge 
whici  i  poffeffed  ;  and  this  beat  back  an  idea  that 
I  did  not  occupy  that  Nation  in  the  opinion  of  man- 
kind  which  1  conceived  1  meri'ed.  But  after  hav- 
ing fcribbled  a  great  quantity  of  p'^p:-r,  I  was  per- 
it&Ay  convinced,  that  even  in  faying  ridiculous 
things,  I  was  in  no  danger  of  beirg  taken  for  a 
fool.  "When  1  perceived  myfelf  fought  after  by  all 
the  wcrH,  and  honored  with  much  more  conhder- 
ation  than  even  my  own  ridiculous  vanity  would 
have  ventured  to  expect ;  and  that,  notwithftanding 
I  his,  I  felt  the  fame  difgufl  rather  augmented  than 
dimiinfhed  ;  I  concluded  that  it  mutl  arife  from 
ibme  other  caufe,  and  that  thefe  were  not  the  kind 
of  enjoyments  for  which  I  muft  look.  What  then, 
in  fad,  is  the  caufe  of  it  r  It  is  no  otV  er  than  t. -at 
invincible  fpirit  of  liberty  which  nothing  can  over- 
come and  in  comparifon  v.itli  wh'ch  honor,  fortune 
and  even  fame  itlelf  are  to  me  nothing.  It  is  certain 
that  this  ipirit  of  iiherty  is  engendered  lefs  by  pride 
than  by  indolence  ;  but  this  indolence  is  incredible ; 
it  is  alarmed  at  every  thing  ;  it  renders  the  moil  tri- 
lliiig  duties  of  civil  life  iiiiuppoitabie  :  to  be  obliged 


The  hifliiencc  of  Sdliiide.  239 

to  fpeak  a  word,  to  write  a  letter,  cr  to  pay  a  vifit, 
are  to  me,  from  the  moment  the  obi'g^rion  arifes, 
the  ievereit  punifhmenis.  I'his  is  the  reyfon  why, 
although  the  ordinary  commerce  of  men  is  odious 
to  mxe,  th€  pleafures  of  private  friendihip  are  fo  dear 
to  ray  nairt;  for  in  the  indulgence  of  private  friend- 
ihip5  there  :^re  no  duties  to  perform  ;  we  hive  ciily 
to  follow  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  all  is  done. 
This  i?  th'?  reafon  il^o  why  I  have  fo  much  dreaded 
to  accept  of  tavcrs  ;  for  every  af:  of  kindnefs  de- 
mands an  acknowledgment  ;  and  I  fed  that  my 
heart  is  ungrateTul.  oi-ly  becaufe  gratitude  becoines 
a  duty.  The  kind  cf  happineis,^  in  fhort,  vvhich 
pleales  rae  oefl,  dees  not  ccnfiit  fo  much  in  doing 
what  1  wifn,  as  in  avoiding  that  which  is  repugnant 
to  my  inclination.  Active  life  affords  no  tempta- 
tions  to  me ;  I  would  an  hundred  nmes  rat-er  do 
notiting  at  all,  than  th:^.t  whxh  Idillike  ,  and  lirave 
frequently  thought,  that  I  fhould  not  have  lived 
very  unhappily  even  in  the  Bailile,  provided  I  was 
free  from  every  other  conflraint  than  that  of  merely 
refiding  vdthin  its  walls." 

The  advantages  of  a  tranquil  leifure  were  nev- 
er felt  with  higher  delight  than  by  Rcuiieau ;  thefe 
enjcyments  ho^^ever  are  equally  witnin  the  reach 
cf  every  individual.  "  Wr.en  my  torments,"  fays 
this  philofopher,  "  oblige  me  to  count  the  long  and 
forrowful  prcgrefs  of  the  night,  and  the  violence  of 
my  fever  prevents  me  from  enjoying  one  moment's 
lleep,  I  frequently  forget  my  prefent  condition  in 
reflecting  on  the  various  events  cf  my  life,  and  recol- 
lection, repentance,  regret  and  pity  divide  thofe  at- 
tentions in  which  I  bury,  for  a  tew  moments,  all 
my  fufferings.  What  fituations  do  you  conceive, 
Sir,  I  mic  ft  frequently  and  m.oft  cheerfully  reciil  to 
my  mind  in  thefe  meditations  ?  Not  the  pleafures  of 
my  youth  v  they  v'^^'s  too  few,  too  much  blended 
with  bitternefs,  and  ure  now  too  diftant  from  my 
thoughts  j  but  the  pleafures  of  my  retirement,  my 


Tlje  Influence  of  Soliimb, 


folitary  walks,  the  tranfient  though  deiicicus  days 
which  I  have  palled  entirely  v.^ith  rayfelf,  with  my 
good  old  houfekeeper,  my  faithful,  weil-belcved 
dog,  my  old  cat,  the  birds  of  the  iields,  and  th 
hearts  of  the  forefts,  furrcuac'ed  by  'A\  the  charm 
of  nature,  and  iilled  with  their  divine  and  incoi 
preheiilible  Author.  Repairing  before  it  wss  Pg 
to  niy  garden,  to  (ee  andcontemph'tethe  rifiog  iun 
when  i  ciifcovered  the  fymptcms  of  a  fine  day,  my 
firfc  prayer  was,  that  neither  mefTages  nor  vilitcrs 
might  arrive  to  diihirb  th^  charm.  After  having 
devoted  the  morning  to  various  cares,  which  as  I 
could  put  them  c3"  till  another  time,  I  always  attend- 
ed to  with  plenfure,  i  L-ifcened  to  my  dinner  (hat  I 
might  avoid  unpleafant  vifatcrs,  and  thereby  procure 
a  longer  afternoon.  Before  one  o'clock,  even  iq 
the  hotteii  days  cf  fummer,  while  the  iun  Ihone  ia 
meridian  fpiendor,  i  walked  forth  v;ith  iny  faithful 
Achates,  hurrying  along,  fearful  left  ibme  cne  might 
feize  held  cf  me  before  1  was  fecure  in  my  efcape  ; 
but  when  I  had  once  turned  a  certain  corner,  and 
felt  myfelf  free  from  danger,  with  v.  hat  palpitation 
of  heart,  with  what  lively  joy  I  crew  my  breath, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Now  I  am  mafter  of  miy  time  for 
the  remainder  cf  the  day  i'*  I  then  walked  with  tran- 
quil fleps  in  fearch  of  Ibme  wild,  fequeftered  fpot 
in  the  foreit,  fome  defart  place,  where  no  object, 
touched  by  the  hands  cf  men,  announced  fervitude 
and  domination  ;  fjme  afylum,  into  which  I  might 
fancy  that  I  alone  had  firfi  entered,  and  where  no 
impertinent  intruder  might  interpole  between  nature 
and  miyfeif." 

.  ..  Who  would  not  wTilingly  renounce  the  difTipa- 
tions  of  the  world  for  thefe  calm  enjoyments  of  the 
heart '  the  fplendid  flavery  of  fociety  for  this  indti- 
mable  liberty  ;  I  am.  perfd<5hly  aware,  tnat  mankind 
in  general  are  not  in  a  firuatton  favorable  to  feif- 
enjcT^ment ;  only  let  them  try,  however,  the  pure 
jpleafures  of  the  country,  and  they  will  find  that  one 


The  InfMCKcc  if  Solitude,  241 

clay  of  liberty,  <^ne  hour  of  quiet,  will  efleclmliy 
cure  thv^i  of  their  anxiery  forfealts,  fhows,  fin-ry, 
and  aU  the  noify  readezvous  cf  f 'fhian  and  folly. 

Pjpe  Clement  the  Sixth  oflered  to  Petrarch, 
Vefidethe  office  of  i^po'lclic  Seo-etary,  many  con- 
fiderable  hiflioprics.  Petrarch  confcantly  refuied 
thera.  "You  will  not  accept  of  any  thing  that  I 
i  offer -to  you faid  the  holy  father.  "  Alk  of  me 
what  you  pleafe."  Two  months  afterwards  Pe- 
trarch wrote  to  one  of  his  friends,  "  Every  degree 
of  elevation  creates  new  fufpicions  in  my  mind,  be- 
caufe  I  perceive  the  misrbrtimes  that  attend  lU 
Would  they  butgrdnt  me  that  happy  mediocrity  fo 
preferable  to  gold,  and  which  they  have  promiled 
rae,  1  {hould  accept  the  gift  with  gratitude  and  cnr- 
diality ;  but  if  they  only  intend  to  inveft  me  with 
fome  important  e  in  ploy  men  t,  I  fnall  refufe  it.  I 
will  ihake  off  the  yoke  ,  for  1  had  much  rather  live 
pDor  than  become  a  flave.^ 

An  Enghfnman  fomewhere  afk^,  "  Why  are 
the  inhabitants  of  the  dch  plains  of  Lombardy, 
where  nature  pours  her  gifts  in  fuch  profufion,  lefs 
opulent  than  tfiofe  of  the  mountains  of  Swiffcrland  ? 
Becaufe  freedom,  whofe  influence  is  more  benign 
than  tefhine  and  zephyrs — covers  the  rugged 
reck  with  foil,  drains  the  fickly  fv/amp,.and  clotnes 
t^e  brown  heath  in  verdure— -drcffes  the  labor- 
er's face  ^.i  ith  fm'les,  ?.nd  makes  him  behold  his  in- 
creafing  family  with  delight  ajid  exidtation ;  free- 
d.mhas  abandoned  the  fertile  fields  of  Lombardy, 
and  dwells  among  the  mountains  of  Swiflerhnd."' 

This  is  the  warm  enthufiafm  of  poetry  ;  but  it 
isliterallytrue  atUri,Schwitz,U:idevald5Zug,Glaris, 
andAppenzel.  For  he  who  has  more  than  his  wants 
require,  is  rich  :  and  whoever  is  enabled  to  ihink, 
to  fpeak  and  to  employ  himfelf  as  his  inclination  may 
direct,  is  free. 

Competency  ?nd  Liberfy,  therefore,  are  the 
true  fweeteners  of  life.  The  ffate  of  mind,  fo  rare- 
(XXD 


24'2  The  Infiicnce  of  Solitude, 

ly  poiTeffed,  in  whxh  we  can  fincerely  fa.y,  "  I  have 
enough"  is  the  higheft  attainment  of  philcfcphy. 
Happinefs  conlifts  not  in  having  too  much,  but  iui- 
ficient.  Kings  and  princes  are  unhappy,  becaufe 
they  always  dellr-^  irore  than  they  poileis,  and  are 
continually  iiimulated  to  accomplifh  more  lhan  it 
is  within  their  power  to  attain.  The  gresteft  and 
the  beft  of  kings  are  therefore  not  to  blame,  if  they 
iometim^s  fay,  "  My  fon,  I  am  deaf  to-dav  in  my 
iCii  ca.r. 

Men  are  ordinarily  inclined  to  appe';'.r  much 
happier  than  in  faft  tney  are  ;  and  they  ccnfider 
every  thing  which  detract:.^  from  this  appearanre  as 
a  real  misfortua?.  Eu-  if  you  are  happy  by  any 
means  whatfbever,  condu6l  ycurfeif  fo  that  ncbody 
fh:uld  kn  )w  it  except  ycur  moft  intimate  friends. 
Conceal  all  the  feelings  you  pofTefs  ;  hide  ?ll  that 
you  enjoy  ;  for  envy  is  ever  watchful  to  find  its 
way  into  the  bofom  of  tranquillityj  and  will  fooa 
deilroy  its  ferenity. 

He  who  only  wants  little  has  ?lways  enough. 
I  am  contenied,'"'  fays  Petrarch,  in  a  letter  to  his 
friends  the  Cardinals  Taleyrard  auvl  Bologna,  I 
defire  nothing  more.  I  h:ive  placed  limits  to  my  de- 
fires.  I  enjoy  every  ihi  ig  that  is  neceffary  to  life. 
Cincinnatus,  Curius,  Fabricius,  Regulus,  after  hav- 
ing conquered  nationc,  and  led  kings  in  triumph, 
wc-'.re  not  fo  rich  as  I  am.  But  I  fliculd  aUvays  be 
poor,  if  I  were  to  open  a  door  to  my  paffions.  Lux- 
ury, ambiticD,  avarice,  know  no  bounds  ;  and  de- 
fire  is  a  fathomlefs  abyfs.  I  have  cloathes  to  cover 
me ;  victuals  to  fupporr  me  ;  horfes  to  carry  me  ; 
lands  to  lie  down  or  walk  upon  while  I  am  alive, 
and  to  receive  my  remains  when  dead.  What  more 
was  any  Roman  Emperor  poifelTed  of?  My  body 
is  healthy  ;  and  ihe  flefh  fubdued  by  labor  is  lefs 
rebellious  againfl  the  fpirit.  I  have  books  of  every 
kind,  which  to  me  are  an  ineitimable  treafure ;  they 
fill  my  fcul  with  a  voluptuous  delight  v/hich  is  ncv- 


The  Infiucncc  of  Bolitude*  243 

cr  tin(^ured  with  reraorfe.  I  have  friends  v/hom  I 
confider  more  precious  than  any  thing  I  poffefs,  pro- 
vided their  counfels  do  not  tend  to  deprive  nie  of 
my  liberty.  I  know  of  no  other  enemies?  than  thole 
which  envy  has  raifed  againll  m-?.  I  defpife  them 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  ;  and  perhaps  it  would 
be  unhappy  for  rae  if  they  were  not  my  enemies, 
1  ft  . 11  reckon  among  my  riches  theiove  and  kindnefs 
of  «11  the  good  men  that  are  upon  eartn,  even  thcfe 
whom  1  have  nevar  feen,  and  perhaps  never  lhail 
fee." 

From  this  paffage  we  dlfcover  that  envy  fol'-- 
b wed  Petrarch  in^o  the  retreats  of  Solitude.  He 
frequently  compliiins  of  it ;  but  in  this  letter  he 
treats  it  widi  propriety.  He  defpifes  his  envious 
enemies,  and  would  be  ferry  if  he  were  without 
them. 

Soli.tu!e  difcovers  tcnr^nkind  their  real  wants. 
Where  great  fjiripli'^ity  of  insn  :ers  prevail,  men  id- 
Wciys  p0:i"-is  infficient  for  the  enj  Dyment  of  ii le.  If 
I  neit'^.er  fee  n'^r  k:iow  the  ti.ings  which  you  have;, 
crdefire  to  pciTe(s,  I  cannot  entertain,  even  i^n  idea 
cf  an3'  good  which  tbev  can  pjfilbly  produce.  An 
eld  cou-:try  curate  reiidmj  iip  'U  a  f.-fiv  incu!:taiii 
near  the  lake  of  Thun,  in  ihe  Car~.t  yn  of  Bern,  was 
cue  day  prefented  with  a  nijorccck,  'i  he-  good  man 
w^os  ignorant  cf  the  rarity  he  had  received,  and  c:n~ 
faited  wiih  bis  co~k  what  he  iliouid  do  with  it.  The 
p.dtor  and  the  cook  agreed  to  lairy  it  in  the  ground. 
Alas !  were  w?  all  'as  ignorant  rmorcccks^  we  I'hould 
r.U  be  as  happy  ?.s  the  curate  cf  the  mountain  near 
the  lake  of  Ihun. 

He  who  places  limits  to  his  real  wants  is  more 
wife,  more  rich,  and  more  contented  tnan  us  all. 
The  fyftem  up::n  which  he  acls  partakes  of  the  no- 
ble faTiphxity  of  his  mind,  lie  finds  felicity  in  the 
mofh  obfcure  life,  in  fitiiations  at  the  greatefh  dif- 
tance  from  the  world.  Truth  and  fimplicity  are  the 
only  objects  of  his  afFe(rtion  \  he  f;. Hows  that  phiiof-- 


2"44  ^^^^  Irifiience  of  Solitude, 

ophy  which  requires  but  little,  h?.s  few  want  s,  arid 
feekV>  his  h'gheil  happinefs  in  a  contented  mind. 

Pep?,  when  only  twelve  years  of  age,  wrote  an 
afff  cling  and  agreeable  little  ode  cn  ihe  iiibject  of 
Solitude,  which  comprehends  the  very  efi?nce 
this  phiLfophy. 

ODE  ON  SOLITUDE. 

Hnppy  the  man  whofe  vvifli  and  rate 

A  few  p<iterna!  acres  bound, 
Content  to  breathe  his  ^atite  z\r 

In  bis  own  gi'ounJ^ 
Whofe  herds  with  milk,  whofe  lields  with  brcdci, 

Whofe  flocks  fuppl  y  him  with  attire, 
Whofe  trees  in  lummer  yield  him  fhiide. 

In  winter,  fire. 
Bleft,  who  can  unconccin'dly  find 

Hours,  days  and  years  Aide  foft  away. 
In  health  of  body,  peace  of  mind, 

Quiet  by  day. 
Sound  fleep  by  night,  rtudy  and  eafe 
Together  mi <'d,  fwect  recreation  ! 
■And  innocence,  which  moft  does  pleafe, 

With  meditaxion. 
TJiiis  Ifrt  me  live,  unfeen,  unknown, 

'I'hus  unla:r>ented  let  medic, 
Ste.il  from  the  world,  and  not  a  ftone 

Tell  where  1  lie. 

To  thcfe  who  love  a  calm  and  tranquil  Hfe,  the 
fcenes^  of  fcnfuality  become  more  fimple,  peaceful^ 
and  iefs  alar:nir:g  ;  to  the  worldiy-mi  jded  this  iielJ 
is  full  of  barren,  dreary  places  ;  of  noife  and  tumult ; 
vineyards  and  banqueling-houfes ;  wanton  dancings 
and  infirmaries  ;  tombs  upon  which  the  rofes  fade ; 
and  dark  fliad  s  in  v^hich  lovers  meet.  But  to  the 
mind  of  hi'ii  who  fnuns  fuch  brutal  joys,  fuch  grcls 
voluptuoufiiefs,  the  pleafures  of  fenfe  are  of  a  more 
elev.ited  kind  ;  as  fcft  as  th^y  are  fublime  ;  as  inna- 
cent  as  th.ey  are  pure  ;  ana  as  permanent  as  they 
are  tranquil. 

The  diLufl  which  flows  from  opulence  difap- 
pears  ia  the  fnnplicity  of  rural  life.  The  bofoni 
learns  to  enjoy  ieafaiiors  verj  different  from  thofe 
it  experienced  m  the  world.  The  fentiments  of  th^ 
miad  ace  rendered  more  free  \  the  ieeiin^  of  th^ 


T^e  InJIimce  of  SoUimk,  245 

Meart  more  pure  ;  neither  overpowered  by  profu- 
fiony  nor  blunted  by  liitiety. 

Petrarch  ooe  day  inviting  his  friend  the  Cnr- 
dinal  Cobnna  to  vilit  his^  retirement  at  Vauclufe, 
wrote  to  him,  "  If  yon  prefer  the  tranqniliity  of  th« 
country  to  the  tumults  of  the  town,  come  here  and 
enjoy  yourfelf :  do  not  bealarired  at  the  fimplicity 
ofmy  table,  or  the  hardnefs  of  my  beds.  Kings 
tiiemftlves  are  fometimes  difgufted  with  iuxury.^and 
enjoy  the  pleafures  of  a  more  frugal  repaft.  They 
are  pleafed  by  the  change  of  fcene  ;  and  occafiona! 
interruption  does  not  render  their  pleafures  iefs 
lively.  But  if  3^ou  wifh  only  to  enjoy  your  accuf- 
tomed  luxury,  what  is  to  prevent  your  bringing 
with  you  the  most  exquifite  viands,  the  wines  of 
Vefuvius,  difhes  cf  filvcr,  and  every  thicg  that  can 
delight  the  fenfes  !  Leave  the  reft  to  me.  I  prom-* 
ife  to  provide  you  with  a  bed  cf  the  finefl  turf,  a 
cooling  fhade,  a  concert  of  nightingales,  figs,  raifms, 
water  drawn  from  the  frefhefc  fpringSjand,  in  fhort, 
every  thing  that  the  hand  of  nature  prefents  to  true 
pleafure." 

Who  won!  ,i  not,-  alas  I  willingly  renounce  thofe 
things  which  only  produce  difquietude  in  the  mind^ 
for  thofe  which  render  it  coatented  ?  The  art  of 
occafionally  diveriing  the  imagination,  taile,  and 
paffions,  affords  new  and  unknown  enjoyments  to 
the  mind,  and  confers  pleafure  without  pain,  and 
luxury  without  repentance.  The  fenfes,  deadened 
by  fatiety,  revive  to  new  enjoyments.  The  lively 
twitter  of  the  grovesjand  the  murmur  cf  the  brooks 
yield  a  more  delicious  pieafure  to  the  ear  than  the 
mufic  of  the  opera,  or  the  compofitions  of  the 
ableft  mafters.  The  eye  repofes  more  agreeably  on 
the  concave  firmament,  on  an  expanfe  of  waters,  on 
mountains  covered  wi»h  rocks,  than  it  dees  at  balls,. 
aiTemblies  and  petits  foupers.  The  mind  enjoys  in 
Solitude  objeds  which  were  before  infupportable  ;: 
and,  reclining  cn  thebrfom  of  fimplicityj  eafi^y  re— 
(XXi  2) 


The  Influence  of  Sortfudrr 


bounces  every  vain  delight.    Petrarch  wrote  ffciii  i 
Vauclufe  to  one  of  his  friends,  "  I  have  made  war  { 
againit  my  corporeal  powers,  for  I  liad  they  are  my  I 
enemies.    My  eyes,  which  have  occafionei  me  to  | 
commit  fo  many  follies,  are  now  confined  to  the 
view  of  a  fingle  w^oman,  old,  black,  and  fun-burnt.  ' 
If  Helen  and  Lucretia  had  poffelTed  fuch  a  face, 
'iVoy  would  never  have  been  reduced  to  aihes,  nor  f 
Tarquin  driven  from  ti.e  empire  of  the  world.  Buty  j 
to  compenfate  thefe  defects,  (he  is  faitbfal,  fubiiiif'  j 
five  and  induf:ncus.    She  paffes  whole  days  in  the  \ 
fields  ;  and  her  fhrivelled  ikin  dclies  the  burrirg  ( 
fun,  even  in  the  hotteft  dog-days.    My  v/ard-rob^ 
iiill  contains  fine  cloaths,  but  i  never  w^ear  them  ; 
and  yen  w^ould  take  me  for  a  common  laborer  or  a  i 
f  mpie  ihepherd — I  who  was  formerly  fo  anxious  ' 
about  my  drefs.   But  the  reafons  which  then  pre- 
vailed, no  longer  exift  ;  the  fetters  by  which  1  was  - 
enilaved  are  broken  ;  the  eyes  which  I  v/as  anxious 
to  pleafe  are  fhut  ;  and  if  they  were  i'till  open,  they 
would  net  perhaps  now  be  able  to  maintain  the  fame 
emp're  over  my  heart.'' 

*  Solitude,  by  ftripping  worldly  objects  cf  that 
falfe  Iplendor  wiih  which  the  imagination  arrays 
them,  deitroys  the  vain  ambition  of  the  mind.  Ac- 
GuUcmed  to  rural  pleafure,  and  indifferent  to  every 
other,  a  wife  man  no  longer  feels  power  and  digni- 
ties worthy  cfhis  defres.  A  Roman  was  over- 
whelmed  with  tears  by  being  obliged  to  accept  the 
Confulfliip,  becaufe  it  v/culd  fcr  one  year  deprive 
him  of  the  pl  jcfure  of  cultivating  his  fieMs.  Cin- 
cmnatus,  who  was  called  from  the  plough  to  the 
command  cf  the  army  of  the  empire,  defeated  the 
i:r.eir-y,  poffeiled  himfelf  of  the  province  s,  made  his 
triumphal  er.try  iiuo  Rome,  and  at  the  expiration 
cf  lixteen  days  reiuraed  to  the  plough. 

To  be  the  inmate  of  an  humble  cottage,  or  the 
cwner  of  a  fpacious  manHon,  to  have  every  thing 
fumptucufly  provided,  or  to  be.  obliged  to  eara  the 


The  h^uence  of  Solitude.  t^J^ 

mesns  of  fubfiftebce,  are  not  heli  in  equTil  eftima- 
tion  by  mankind  :  but  kt  the  man  who  has  expe- 
rienced both  the  one  and  the  other  of  thefe  iituations 
be  asked,  under  which  of  ihem  he  has  paffed  the 
moft  contented  life:  who  can  reccuni  the  greater 
number  of  cares  and  inquietudes  which  are  felt  in 
the  palace  than  under  tne  roof  of  the  fimple  cotta- 
ger ?  Who  can  deny  that,  in  the  former,  dlfcontenf 
prAfoDS  every  enjoyment,  and  makes  eafe  and  fuper- 
lluity  a  difguifed  mifery  ?  The  Princes  (^f  Germany 
cannot  digefl  ail  the  poifon  which  their  cooks  pre- 
pare, fo  well  as  a  peaiant  upon  the  heaths  of  Lim- 
bourg  d'gelts  his  buck-wheat  pie  y  and  thofe  who 
may  differ  from  me  in  this  opinion,  will  be  forced 
to  acknowledge,  that  there  is  great  truth  in  the  reply 
which  a  pretty  French  country  girl  made  to  a  young* 
and  amiable  nobleman  who  fclicited  her  to  aban- 
don her  folit'tiry,  rurrd  fr  nation,  and  retire  with  him 
to  Paris  :  "  Ati  !  Monlieur  le  Marquis,  the  farther 
we  remove  from  our felves,  the  greater  is  our  dif-* 
tance  fr  nn  happinefs.*' 

A  fingle  pafJion  v/hich  we  are  neither  inclined 
ror  able  to  iatisfy,  fr;:-quently  embitters  cur  live?.. 
There  ar?  moments  in  which  the  mind  is  difconten'-- 
ed  with  itfelf,  tired  of  it?  errftence,  dngulkd  wiih 
every  thing,  incapable  of  relifhing  either  Solitude 
cr  DiiTipation,  lolt  to  all  repofe,  and  alienated  from 
every  plediure.-  Time  under  fnch  a  lituaticn,  altho* 
unemployed,  appears  horribly  tedious ;  an  impene- 
trable chaos  of  (entiment  and  idccis  prevails ;  the 
prefent  aliorJs'no  enjoyment;  and  we  wait  with 
impaiience  for  the  fumr=.  The  mi::-d,  in  truth, 
v/ants  V.Q  true  filt  cf  life  ;  and  without  that, 
exilter.ce  is  inlipid. 

But  v/here  is  this  precious  fait  to  be' found?  Is 
it  in  the  paiTioa  cf  love  ?  Love,  without  doubt,  fre- 
quently preferves  life,  and  fcmetimes  gives  it  new 
vigor  and  animauon  ;  but  a  paffi  :n  which  under- 
niiaes.  and  con(ume§  us,  can  neither  alF^rd  perma- 


TJje  Influence  of  Solitude, 

nency  cor  tranquillity.  The  love  c?.pable  of  raifing 
itfelf  to  the  flrength  and  power  of  being  permanent, 
muft  defcend  into  a  (incere  frienddjip,  or  it  will  de- 
ftroy  itfelf  or  its  object,  by  adding  fuel  to  a  fiibtle 
flame,  which  will  reduce  the  lever  and  bel  oved  to  an 
heap  of  cindars.  The  f^lt  of  life,  therefore,  mufh 
be  extraftsd  from  a  paffioa  wnich  does  not  require 
Lhe  aid  of  another  to  fnpport  it  ;  which  is  capable 
of  feedjijg  itfelf ;  which  ?.cquires  new  force  the 
longer  it  continues  ;  and  which,  free  and  indepen- 
dent, raifes  the  foul  fuperior  to  every  thing  that  fur- 
rounds  it. 

Solitude  and  limited  defires  afford  a  true  hap- 
pinefs  to  the  ftatefman  who  is  cafh^.ered  from  his 
office  or  exiled  from  the  flate.  Every  great  Minif- 
ter  does  not,  indeed,  retire  from  his  employments, 
like  Neckarjth rough  ti^e  portals  of  everhftliig  fame. 
But  every  one  without  diftiD^tion  ought  to  raife 
their  grateful  hands  to  Heaven,  on  finding  them- 
felves  fuddenly  conveyed  from  the  troubled  cceaa 
of  public  life  to  the  calm  repofe  of  their  natWe  fields, 
to  the  paftoral  care  of  their  flocks  and  herds,  under 
the  fhade  of  tlioie  trees  which  their  ai^ceftors  plant- 
ed. In  France,  however,  if  the  Mir  iller  incurs  the 
difpleafure  of  his  Sovereiojn,  he  is  ordered  to  retire 
that  is,  to  retire  to  the  eflate  which  he  has  embel* 
rfhed  and  made  a  mc  ft  agreeable  retreat.  But 
alas  !  this  dehghtful  retreat  is  to  him  a  place  of 
exile  ;  the  fituation  becomes  intolerable ;  he  no 
brger  taftes  its  beauties  with  pleafure  ;  and  fleep 
flies  from  his  eyes,  fmce  he  is  no  teger  his  own  ^ 
rnafter.  The  leifure  he  poflTefl^^s  renders  him  an 
impatient  hypochondri^.c,  whofe  mir.d  turns  with 
averfion  from  every  objfft,  and  whofe  ill- humor 
tinctures  every  thing  he  fees.  The  difgrace  of  a 
Miniiterin  France  is  frequendy  fatsl  to  his  polidcal. 
exigence  -y  but  this  is  not  the  cafe  ia  England  ; 


Jt  is  to  this  end,  '  fays  one  of  our  writers,      that  difgrace.^, 
«f  sloAoft  every  kind  coaiiuii  xnem   The  credit,  authority,  and  «oft' 


The  Infiicnce  of  S^rituJe.  249. 

there^hi^y  felicitate  the  Minif.er  on  his  retiremen*', 
as  a  man  juix  recovereJ  from  a  darg:eroiiS  dif tem- 
per. Heilill  maintains  manymore  and  tetter  friends 
tnan  he  before  p'offeirid  ;  fcr  thefe  are  attached  to 
him  by  fin  cere  eireein,  while  the  former  were  at- 
tached to  hiiii  only  bv  their  intereils.  May  tre 
great  Gover'  or  of  the  Univerfe  recomp^nie  Britons 
for 'hj  examples  thty  have  given  to  us  of  men  fuf- 
ficientiy  bcld  and  indepe::dcct  to  weigh  every  tranl- 
aclion  in  the  fcales  of  reafon,  and  to  guidy  them- 
(elves  by  t''e  intrinfic  and  real  merit  of  each  cafe  ? 
For,  nctwituflan^ir.g  the  rallincfs  with-  Vv^hich  many 
Englifhmen  have  revvdted  ag?,i.iit  tha  Supreme  Be- 
ing, notwithflanding  the  laugh  and  mockery  with 
wriich  they  have  frequently  infulted  virtue,  good 
manners  and  deccrum,  there  are  many  nmong  them 
who,  elpecially  at  an  adv^anred  period  of  their  lives, 
perfe^ly  underftand  taeartof  living  by  themfelves  ; 
who  in  th.-ir  tranquil  and  delighiful  villus  think 
much  more  nobly,  and  live  with  more  freedom  and 
dignity,  dian  an^  ignorant  or  prefumpiive  peer  of 
Parliament  pofTehes. 

it  is  iaid,  that  of  twenty  Ministers  who  receive 
the  pal)lic  thaiiks,  or  are  forced  by  age  to  rc  fign 
themfelves  to  retirement,  there  are  always  twelve 
or  fifteen  who  finilh  their  career  by  becoming  Gar- 
deners and  Country  Gentlemen.  So  much  the 
better  for  tnefe  Ex-IVIiniiiers  ;  f^r  tliey,  like  the  ex- 
cellent Chancellor  de  la  Rocne,  at  Spire^  certairdy 
poileis  much  more  content  with  tie Jhvel  and  the 
rakey  than  they  enjoyed  in  the  moil  profperous  hcui^ 
of  thsir  adminiilration. 

Seniiments  Uke  thefe,  furniili,  it  is  faid,  an  ex- 
cellent theme  to  thole  who,ignorant  of  the  manners 
of  the  world,  and  unacquainted  with  men,  are  fond 
of  raorahzing,  and  of  extoihng  a  contempt  of  human 


lideration  which  rhey  befoieenpyed,  are  like  thofe  tranfient  fires  which 
fliine  during  the  night:  j  and  being  fuddcnly  extingr.i/hed,  only  render 
£ii€  daikaeis  and  Soiitudejin  'Ahich  the  crctveikris  involved, morfvilibi*. 


^^0  The  Infiicnce  of  Solitude, 

grep.tnefs.  ^  Rur?J  innccerice  and  aimifenieiat,  the 
pure  and  firnpie  pleiuurcs  of  nature,  and  the  erjo^^- 
ment  of  a  calm  content  ib  arduoufiy  acquired,  very 
feUom  form,  it  is  contended,  any  porlion  of  thole 
bon.f.e  j  advantages  which  tiiis  Sditude  is  faid  to 
pofTefs.  It  is  added  ^ilfp,  ihit  a  Miniiier  in  office, 
though  furrouncled  by  endlefs  diiiicul  ies,  fubieft  to 
fncefiant  tcrmenr,  obliged  to  rack  his  brains,  a;:d  to 
eniploy  every  art  and  cunning  to  attain  his  ends, 
begins  by  his  fuccef^  to  feel  that  he  has  attained 
wiiat  until  this  period  he  h  id  never  before  pofieiied, 
the  chanidcr  of  Mailer  and  Sovereign  ;  that  \  c  is 
then  enabled  to  create  and  to  dellroy,  to  plant  and 
to  root  up,  to  make  alterations  wlien  and  where  he 
pleafes ;  tliat  he  may  pull  down  a  vineyard  and  creel 
an  Engihh  grove  on  its  icite  ;  make  hills  where 
hills  v/ere  never  feen  be.fcre  j  lev- el  eminences  Vvith 
the  ground;  compel  the  f-ream  to  il 'w  as  his  in- 
clination lhall  direcr  ;  f  .rce  woods  and  fhrubberies 
to  grow  v/here  he  ple::!cs  ;  gr;ift  or  lop  as  it  (hall 
ftrike  his  idea  ;  opm  views  and  fhut  cut  bounda- 
ries ;  conllrucr  ruins  where  ruins:  never  happrne^  ; 
ereft  temples  of  which  he  alon-i  is  the  high-pi  ieu  ; 
and  bu'ld  hermitages  wnere  i^.e  may  feclnde  himfslf 
at  pieaiiirc  ;  that  ;ill  this  is  not  a  reward  for  the  re- 
Itraints  he  f:nr.erly  experienced,  but  a  natural  in^ 
clination,  fuicenovv  he  may  give  orders  without  be- 
i;jg  himreif  obliged  to  obey  ;  for  a  minifler  pjull  be, 
from  the  habils  of  his  life,  fsnd  of  commeind  and 
fovereignty  to  the  end  of  his  d^ys,  v/hether  he  con- 
tinues at  the  head  of  an  extenfive  empire^  or  directs 
tile  mani-gement  of  a  poultry-yard. 

To  maintain  that  it  is  necellary  to  renounce 
the  na'ural  paffi.  ns  of  the  human  mind  in  order  to^ 
enjoy  the  advantages  of  Sohtude,  would,  without 
doubt,  not  only  be  inor:diz".ng  very  awkwardly,  but 
difcover  a  great  ignorance  cf  ti^e  world,  and  of  the 
nature  of  man.  That  v/hich  is  planted  in  the  breafl 
cf  man  muft  there  remain,   if  therefore  a  miniHa' 


The  Influence  of  Zol'dxule,  25 1 

be  not  fatiat€(^  with  the  exerclfe  of  power  and  au- 
thority, if  in  his  retirement  he  fall  reiain  the  weak- 
nefs  TO  Willi  for  command,  let  hiia  require  obedi- 
ence from  his  chicke.is  whenever  he  pleafes,  provi- 
ded fuch  a  gratification  is  efleciiai  to  his  happinefs, 
and  tends  to  fuppi'-els  the  defire  of  ?gain  expoling 
himfclf  to  thcf*^  tempefts  and  fnipwrecks  which  he 
can  only  avoid  in  the  faf<^  harbor  of  rurrd  life."  Aa 
ex-niiniiler  muft  fconer  or  later  learn  to  defpife  the 
upp^nr^nces  of  human  grandeur  ;  for  in  his  retire- 
mer.t  he  will  perceive  that  true  greatnefs  frequently 
begins  at  th?.t  pericd  of  Hfe  which  flatefmen  are  apt 
to  conlider  as  a  dreary  void  ;  he  will  difcover  that 
the  regret  of  being  no  longer  able  to  do  mere  good, 
is  only  r;mbiticn  in  difguife  ;  and  feel  that  the  in^ 
habitants  of  the  country,  in  cultivating  their  cabba- 
ges and  afparagus,  are  a  hundred  times  happier  than 
the  greateft  mlnifler. 

Under  fuch  circumftances  it  is  only  necelTary 
(o  be  contented  with  one's  feiF,  to  forget  the  fuper- 
iluities  of  life,  and  to  render  the  little  we  poffefs  as 
palatable  as  pofFible.  The  firfc  year  which  Petrarch 
pafTed  at  Vauclufe^  h«  was  alT.oft  always  alone,  had 
no  other  company  than  his  dog,  no  ether  fervant 
than  a  r.eighborii?g  filherm.an,  who  ferved  him  with 
ever  /  tliiag  he  wanted.  The  dome['.ics  who  at- 
tended him  at  Avignon,  not  being  able  to  accufiom 
themf elves  to  this  manner  of  living,  quitted  his  fer- 
vice.  Befide,  he  was  bsdly  lodged,  having  cnly 
one  poor  cotf  age  for  his  refidence,  which  he  after- 
wards rebuilt  without  any  art,  merely  to  render  it 
tenantable,  and  even  the  traces  of  which  no  longer 
remain.  His  fare  was  coarfe  raid  frugal ;  nothing 
that  flatters  the  fenfes  was  to  be  feen  there.  His 


*  "  Marihal  de  BoufHers  has  retired  to  cultivate  his  fields,"  faid 
Ma<iame  de  Ma'intenon  :  ='I  aiu  of  opinion  that  this  Gincianatus 
would  not  he  forry  to  be  retched  from  his  pljagh.  At  his  departuie  be 
charged  us  all  to  think  of  him,  if  any  thing  was  wanted  duiing  his  ab- 
feace,  which  may  perhaps  continue  Sfteea  days." 


lh€  JnfulCKCC  f  Soliliide. 

befl  friends,  therefore,  called  upon  him  very  feld(3m, 
and  when  they  came,  their  vilits  were  very  fhcrt ; 
others  only  vifited  him  from  the  fame  charirable 
feelings  wuiob  lead  meu  to  the  chamber  of  the  fick, 
or  the  (liiDgecn  of  the  priibner.  He  wrote  to  his 
friend  Philip  de  CaiTabolJ,  Biiliop  of  Cava^llon, 
who  Vw-as  then  at  Naples,  "  Let  others  rmi  after 
riches  and  honors  5  let  them  be  Princes  and  Kings  ; 
I  (hall  never  attempt  to  impede  their  career.  I  am 
contented  with  the  humble  chr.ra^ter  of  Poet.  And 
why,  my  good  bifhop,  \^  ill  you  cont:rai?.ily  wander 
f rem  place  to  place  merely  to  difccver  the  ro^d  to 
preferment  ?  You  know  the  fnares  which  are  laid 
ia  the  Courts  of  Princes,  the  anxieties  which  cor- 
rode the  heart,  and  the  riJks  which  are  run,  and 
the  fiorms  to  which  hfe  is  expofed  there.  Return, 
therefore,  toyourdi jctfe,  relui-n  to  tranquilhty  and 
rep  vie.  You  may  do  this  with  honor,  while  for- 
tune fmiles  upon  you. — You  will  there  find  every 
thing  you  can  denre.  I.ea\  e  fuperfluity  to  the  av- 
aricious. The  rooms,  although  not  decorated  with 
tapsSry,  are  coramodioufly  fun:ifhed.  If  cur  table 
is  not  iumptu:us.  yet  we  fiave  fomething  at  leaft  to 
iatisfy  hunger.  Our  beds  are  not  covered  with 
gold  and  purple,  but  we  do  not  fleep  in  them  with 
leTs  comfort.  I'he  hour  of  death  approaches,  and 
warns  me  to  renounce  all  the  extravagant  vanities 
of  hfe.  To  cultivate  my  gardens  is  now  the  only 
pleafure  I  purlue.  I  plant  fruit-trees,  in  hope  that 
while  I  am  fifhing  on  my  rocks,  they  will  cover  me 
with  their  fhade.  But  my  trees  are  old,  and  require 
to  be  replaced  ;  I  m.u:x  therefore  requefl:  that  ycu 
will  defire  your  attendants  to  bring  me  fome  plants 
of  the  peach  and  pear  tree  from  Naples-  The  en- 
joyments of  my  old  aj^e  are  purclialed  by  labor  ; 
and  I  live  in  expectation  of  future  pieafures,  which 
I  intend  to  participate  with  you  aiore  :  this  is  what 
the  Hermit  on  the  hanks  of  the  Sergue  writes  to 
3rai  frem  the  middle  of  the  forefto" 


The  Irfluence  of  Mitudc,  afj;^ 

Solitude,  however,  will  net  procure  us  ail  tliefe 
advantages,  unlets  we  renounce  the  mania  of  refi- 
ning upon  happinefs.  By  endeavoring  to  make 
things  better  than  they  are,  we  forget  all  that  is 
good.  He  who  always  vievv^s  things  oa  the  favora- 
ble fide,  who  wifhes  that  ail  things  which  are  wrong, 
and  which  ought  to  remain  wrong,  were  inade 
rght,  vcluntarily  (urrenders  a  large  portion  of  his 
pleafures ;  for  without  fo  great  a  number  oS.  wrongs 
hads  ill  the  world,  life  would  not  be  fo  entertaining 
as  it  is. 

To  live  happily,  it  is  an  excellent  mtixim  to 
take  things  juil  as  they  are  ;  cr  to  adn-it,  with  a 
celebrated  German  phUcfopher,  as  the  foundation 
o^'  all  morality,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  do  as  much 
good  as  poiTible,  and  to  be  contented  v/iih  every 
thing  as  we  find  it.  This  fpecies  of  morality  is 
certainly  founded  in  toleration  and  good  nature  ; 
but  it  is  apt  to  d?generate  too  ep.fily  into  a  iocfer 
kind  of  philofophy,"^  v/hich  produces  noihing  good 
in  daring  minds,  and  does  not  render  the  people  free. 
\t  is  true,  however,  that  there  is  no  character  in  the 
world  fo  unhappy  as  he  who  is  continually  finding 
fault  with  every  thing  he  fees. 

My  barber  at  Hanover,  while  he  was  preparing 
to  (have  me,  exclaimed  with  a  deep  figh,  "  It  i^ 
terribly  hot  to-day."  "  You  place  Heaven,"  faid 
I  to  him,  "  in  greut  difficuliies  ;  for  thefe  nine 
months  lad  paft  you  hive  regularly  told  me  every 
other  day.  It  is  ferribly  rJci  to- day''  Cannot  the  Al- 
mighty, thea,  any  longer  govern  the  Univerfe  with- 
ou*  thefe  gentlemen-barbers  finding  fomething  to 
be  difconteated  with  ?  "  Is  it  not,"  I  allccd  him, 
"  much  better  to  take  the  feafcns  as  they  change, 
and  receive  with  equal  gratitude  from  the  hands  of 


*  '*Let  the  world  go  as  it  pleafes,"  fays  an  ingenious  writer-,  to 
da  one's  duty  tolerably  well,  and  fpeak  always  in  praife  of  tl)e  good 
Prior,  is  an  ancient  maxim  of  the  monks  ;  but  it  may  lead  tte  difci- 
rSine  of  coc-vents  into  a  ftate  of  mediocrity, relaxation,  and  coiUeirpt.** 


55 4-  -^^^^  Influence  of  MHiide* 

God  the  winter^s  cok!:and  the  fu miner's  warmth 
— "  O  !  certainly,''  replied  the  kirber. 

I  may  therefore  vath  certainty  maintain,  that 
c-MYipetency  and  content  are,  in  general,  iiighly  ben- 
eficiai  to  mankind ;  and  that  under  many  circum- 
flances  Solitude  favors  both  tha  one  and  the  ether. 

One  of  the  advantages  we  ftill  owe  to  Solitude 
is,  that  it  enables  us  habit  to  relinquifh  the  foci- 
cty  of  men.  For  as  it  is  impofTible  always  to  pro- 
cure agreeable  and  intereftlng  company,  we  foon 
lofe  the  defire  to  attain  it,  and  confole  ourfdves 
with  the  idea,  that  it  is  incomparably  more  eaify  to 
drive  away  languor  and  difcontenr  in  retirement 
than  in  the  world  :  befide,  as  it  very  rarely  happens 
than  on  quitting  a  pubhc  ailembly  we  enter  with 
great  good  humor  into  the  examination  of  ourfelves, 
this  ought  ftill  to  be  another  reafon  to  induce  us 
the  more  eafily  to  renounce  it.  The  lefs,  there- 
fore, we  form  connexions  with  other  men,  the 
more  we  are  qualified  for  an  intercourfe  with  our- 
felves,  independent  of  all  acquaintance  with  the 
world. 

It  is  frequently  difficult  to  (icd  an  amiable  and 
fcnfible  charader  with  whom  we  may  form  a  con- 
neclion,  and  to  whom  v/e  can  freely  communicate 
cur  thoughts,  our  plealurcs,  and  our  p:^ins.  In  this 
cafe  nothing  but  employment  and  aftivity  can  di- 
vert our  minds.  The  idle  and  unemployed^  not 
being  able  to  drive  avvay  hffitude  and  difcontent  by 
yawning,  expect  that  relief  from  the  coming  on  of 
time,  which  the  induftrious  eujoy  every  moment  of 
their  lives.  The  coldnefs  of  indolence  freezes  all 
the  fun£lions  of  the  heart ;  and  the  dread  of  labor 
poifons  every  pleafure  :  but  tiie  man  who  ferioufly 
adopts  fome  ufeful  courfe  of  Ufe,  who  immediately 
executes  whatever  his  ftation  calls  upon  him  toper- 
form,  always  enjo^^s  a  contented  mind.  To  him 
the  day  apiDcars  too  fhort,  the  night  too  Icng.^ 
V6x,adon  and  difquietude  vanifb  from  rhe  breafi  of 


The  Influence  9/  Solitude,  25^ 

him  who  never  baves  for  the  performance  of  to« 
morrow  that  which  may  be  done  to-day,  and  who 
,makes  himfelf  mafler  of  the  preftnt  morrent,  and 
,does  net  iiidifcreetly  rely  upon  an  unce!  tain  futurityo 
A  fituation  in  a  fmall  village,  or  a  ccuntry  re- 
tiremenr,  is  beit  faited  to  this  ipecies  of  employ- 
ment. I'he  great  world  is  a  fcene  of  agitation  from 
morning  to  night,  although,  flridly  fpeaking,  noth- 
ing is  done  during  the  day.  In  a  fm.ill  vilb.ge,  or 
more  fequeftered  fituation,  the  mind  has  time  to 
think  ;  vfz  viev/  every  object  with  more  interell"^ 
and  difcharge  every  duty  with  higher  pleafure.  We 
do  not  read  as  the  world  reads,  merely  to  fay  that 
we  have  read,  but  to  enjoy  and  benefit  by  the  good 
which  our  readirg  affords.  Every  thing  we  read 
in  filence,  in  tranqiiilUty,  finks  deep  into- the  mind, 
unites  itfelf  more  cicfely  with  our  thoughts,  and 
cperates  more  forcibly  on  the  heart.  A  judicious 
ufe  of  time  in  fuch  a  fituation  foon  lefiens  cur  ia- 
clination  to  fociety,  and,  at  I'^ngth,  we  efbeem  our-- 
Lives  completely  happy  in  finding  it  totally  extin- 
gulihed. 

For  this  reafjn,  the  filerxe  of  the  country 
proves  frequently,  to  the  female  mind,  the  fchool' 
cf  true  philoicphy.  In  England,  where  the  face  of 
Nature  is  fo  beautiful,  and  where  the  inhabitants 
arehouily  adding  new  embeinfliments  to  her^harm.Sj. 
rural  fife  pcfielles  in  itfelf  inexprcllible  d? light s  : 
but  among  that  adive  people,  the  love  of  Scll'.ude' 
is  perhaps,  in  general,  much  lironger  in  women  tiian 
in  men.  The  nobhman  who  empbys  the  day  in 
riding  over  his  ellate,  or  in  foil owii-.g  the  hounds^ 
does  not  enjoy  the  Solitude  of  rural  hfe  with  the 
I'lime  pleafure  as  his  lady,  who  employs  her  time  in 
needle- work,  or  in  reading  in  her  romantic  pleafure- 
grounds  fome  intlruOive  or  affecting  work.  In 
England,  where  ideas  flow  fo  rapidly,  where,  iti 
general,  the  people  hve  io  m-uch  to  think,  the  calm 
cf  retirement  becomes  more  v-aluable,  and  theen^ 


::^6  Tks  Influence  of  Solitude',  ] 

joyiiieTi  ts  of  the  mind  more  interefting.  The  learn* 
ing  which  has  at  prefent  fo  coDfiderably  iDcreafed 
amcng  the  hdies  of  Germany,  certainly  ewes  its 
or.gln  to  rural  life ,  for  among  thofe  who  pafs  much 
of  their  time  in  the  country,  who  l^ad  a  life  of  re- 
tirement, and  read  only  for  their  improvement,  we 
lind  in  general  incomparably  more  .true  wit  and 
fentiment  than  among  the  kdux  ef^rits  cf  the  me- 
tropolis. 

Hew  would  thcf"  who  occafionally  rtfiie  in  the 
country  abridge  the  time  of  ti:eir  relidence  in  town, 
if  they  weighed  and  felt  the  advantages  of  a  rural 
fituation  !  'i  h!;  frivolous  enjoyments  cf  the  mtCtrop* 
olis  would  then  vex  and  difguit  their  minds ;  they 
would  loon  be  difcontented  to  fee  men  employ  time 
with  fo  Utile  improvement  to  themfelves  ;  in  run- 
ning inceffantly  after  every  thing  that  is  iirange,  de- 
voting their  whole  lives  to  drels,  gaming,  payirg 
vifits,  without  ever  refigning  themfelves  to  thofe 
iubiime  refle^lions  which  elevate  and  enoble  the 
lieart.  Pofieiled  of  goodnefs,  liberality,  and  iim^ 
plicity,  a  country  life,  after  having  lived  in  the 
town,  aiTords  fo  many  oppDrtunities  of  being  hap- 
py, that  it  is  impofiible  to  be  languid  or  difcontent- 
ed, provided  we  are  neither  negligent,  i  Jde,  Tick,  ncr 
in  love. 

How  fweet,  how  coniolrng  it  is  in  the  tranquil- 
lity of  re:ir foment  to  call  to  remembrance  our  ab- 
fent  friends !  Ah,  this  remembrance  alone  makes 
lis  taile  'again  in  SoUtude  all  the  pleafures  we  have 
enjoyed  in  their  fociety. — "  You  are  far  rem.oved, 
but  I  am  notwithftanding  always  near  to  you. 
There  is  the  place  where  you  ufed  to  fit.  I  have 
I  he  identical  chair  flill  by  me.  You  gave  me  that 
picture ;  that  charming  tranquil  landl'cape.  With 
what  foft  effufion,  with  what  a  natural  overflow  of 
feeling  and  fentiment  we  enjoyed  the  view  of  that 
engraving,  upon  thofehvely  images  of  a  happy  iran- 
qciillity  1  1$  it  pciTibie  to  be  unhappy,  we  may  ex* 


The  Injluerice  of  Solitude, 

craim,  v/nen  we  ^^ever  liv3  with  higher  joy,  with 
greater  a<^ivity,  never  feel  the  pleaflires  of  hope  and 
expectation  with  more  refmed  delight  than  when  v/e 
are  only  one  day's  jocrney  from  each  other !" — By 
the  aid  of  thefe  light  ?Ttifices  of  imagination,  thefe 
flattering  illufion.^-,  which  Sclitude  fuggefts,  two 
friends,  feparated  by  the  greateft  diftance,  may  live 
io  continual  interccurfe  wi  heach  other,  even  when 
feparated  by  oceans ;  when  each  no  longer  Tilens  to 
the  voice  or  diftinguifnes  the  approaching  fteps  of 
the  object  he  loves. 

Friends  whom  detliny  has  feparated  from  each 
other,  do  not  any  where  feel  their  fentiments  fo  no- 
ble and  relined  as  in  thofe  places  where  nothing  in« 
terrupts  this  foft  intercourfe,  and  where  the  plealures 
oF  the  world  cannot  interpofe  between  their  hearts,- 
l^Iutual  ill  humor,  thofe  mortiliications  which  a  com-»- 
merce  with  the  world  daily  inilidls,  and  a  number 
of  little  accidents,  may  fometimes  leflen  the  delight 
which  the  commny  of  the  deareft  friend  would  oth- 
erwife  afford.  In  thefe  unhappy  moments  the  mind 
is  only  influenced  by  the  temporary  feelings  of  the 
heart,  and  never  once  recurs  to  thole  friendly  inters 
courfes  which  once  prevailed  when  engaged  in  the 
moft  important  affairs,  and  to  which  it  will  fcon 
again  return  forever.  He  who  until  this  time  had 
attra<fled  my  love,  now  repels  it  by  ill  humor ;  and 
how  many  a^reeabh  fentiments,  how  many  of  the 
moft  dt  lightful  pleafnres  of  my  life  would  be  loft,  if 
I  were  always  to  forget  the  pafl:  in  the  prefent.  and 
to  anfwer  his  peevifnnefs  by  my  ill  humor !  A  fhort 
vexation,  and  that  Httle  fub-acid  humor  which  wilF 
fometimes  2  rife,  only  obfcures  for  an  inftact  the 
flattering  image  under  which  my  friend  is  accuiiom.- 
ed  to  appear  before  me,  whofe  prefence  always  rai- 
fes  fuch  delightful  fenfatious  in  my  hc^art.  diffufes 
felicity  and  pleafure  ov:-r  my  life,  charms  every 
vexation  from  my  breaff,  banifhes  my  ill  humcr^ 
and  who,  until  the  prefent  moment,  has  ever  co^ 
{XXII  z) 


25^  *  The  Influence  cf  Solitude.  i 

cealed  his  ill  humor  from  my  view.   This  muft  be, 
without  doubt,  the  priviltge  of  intimacy.  But 
friends  ought  not  to  wreak  their  difc  on  tents  on  each 
other  ;  friends  who  have  heretofore  lhared  together 
in  -all  the  misfortunes  of  life,  who  have  mutually 
fufered  for,  and  endcav  ^ed  to  relieve,  the  feeUiigs 
of  each  oth^r'^:  breaft.  Friendfhip  demands  fmceri- 
ty,  but  (he  :iiro  in  commoa  benevolence  demands  a 
mutual  inc^ulgence  and  accommodation ;  and  re- 
quires that  m.ildnefs  fnould  be  oppoied  to  anger,  aad 
patience  to  ill  humor.    This,  however,  can  never 
happen  v/here  each  indulges  the  afperities  of  his 
tem.per,  and,  crcffed  by  the  em-barralfments  of  life,, 
becomes  peevifh,  fcrgets  every  attention  aiid  civiUty 
Mmfelf,  and  complains  that  they  are  not  obferved  to 
bira.    But  how  quickly  do  all  thefe  inconveniences- 
difappear  ia  Solitude  1  So  litude  fandifies  the  mem- 
ory of  thofe  we  bve,  and  cancels  all  recolk<fi:ion- 
but  that  which  contributes  to  the  enjoyments  of 
Friendiliip !  Conftai:cy,  fecurity,  comidcnce,  there 
appear  ag?,in  i:i  all  their  brlghtntrs,  and  re.nflume 
their  empire  in  the  heart.   Every  pulfe  of  the  fouV 
beats  in  pcrft  ct  harmony  :  1  linen  with  pleafure  to. 
my  friend,  he  attends  to  w^q  ia  return  ;  although 
diitant,  hs  is  elivays  near  me:  I  communicate  ta 
him  all  my  thoughts 'aod  all  mv  fenfations.   I  pre- 
ferve,  as  facred  to  cur  friendihip,  all  the  flowers- 
that  he  ilrevv^s  over  the  thorny  p?.th  of  my  life  ;  and 
ail  thofe  w  ich  I  can  perceive  i  g-ither  for  him. 

Solitude  not  ovAy  reiines  the  enjoy irents  cf 
friendfhip,  but  places  us  in  a  fituation  to  gain  friend3^ 
w'nom  neither  time  nor  accident  can  take  away,  frcm 
whom  nothing  can  alienaie  our  ibuls,  and  to  whole 
arms  we  never  fly  in  vain. 

The  friends  of  Petrarch  fjmetimes  wrote  to 
him,  apologizing  f:r- not  hiving  been  to  fee  him. 

It  is  impcilible  to  live  wi'h  you,''  lay  they  ;  "  the 
Hfe  v/hich  you  Ic^ad  at  Yauclufe  is  repugnant  to  hu* 
TOH  nature.   In  v/intcr  ycu  lit?  like  an  owl,  with 


The  Lifuence  of  SGliiude.  ^^(> 

your  face  over  the  (ire  ;  in  the  fiiinmer  ycu  are  in- 
celfantly  running  about  the  fields :  feldoaj  does  one 
find  you  ("eated  under  the  fhade  of  a  tree.''  Pe- 
trarch finiled  at  thefe  reprefentutions  :  "  I'hefe  peo- 
ple/* faid  he,  "  confder  the  pleafures  of  the  world 
'  as  their  iupreme  good  ;  and  conceive  that  one  ought 
not  to  renounce  tnem.  i  poilefs  a  number  of  friends* 
wh'jie  fociety  is  extremely  agreeable  to  me.  They 
are  of  all  countries,  and  of  all  age? ;  they  are  dif- 
tinguiihed  ia  war,  in  p3litics,  and  in  the  fciences.. 
It  is  very  eafy  to  acquire  them ;  they  are  always  at 
my  fervice  :  1  call  for  their  company,  and  fend  them 
away  whenever  I  pleafe  ;  they  are  never  trouble- 
fome,  and  mimediately  anfvver  all  my  queilions. 
Some  relate  to  me  the  events  of  ages  paft ;  others 
reveal  the  fecrets  of  nature :  thefe  teach  me  howio 
live  with  h?.ppinefs  ;  and  thofe  h^w  to  die  in  quiet : 
thefe  drive  av/ay  every  care  by  the  enjoymeat  th^y 
afford  me,  and  increafe  my  gaiety  by  the  livelinefs 
of  their  wit ;  while  there  are  others  who  h:rden  my 
heart  againfl  fufFerings,  teach  me  to  reflrain  my  de- 
fires,  and  to  depend  only  on  myfelf.  In  one  word^ 
they  open  to  me  an  avenue  to  ail  the  arts,  toallthe- 
fcienccs,  and  up3n  their  information  I  f.uely  rely. 
In  return  for  thefe  great  fervices,  they  only  require 
of  me  a  chamber  in  one  corner  of  my  fmail  manfion, 
where  they  may  repofe  in  peace,  in  (hort,  I  carry 
them  with  me  into  the  fields,  with  the  tranquillity 
of  which  they  are  much  better  pleafed  than  the  tu- 
mults of  the  town." 

Love  !  the  moH  precious  gift-  oP  heaven,  that 
happy  fenfibility  from  which  srifes  every  emo  ionof 
tlie  heart,  appears  to  merit  a  diftinguifhed  rankf 
among  the  advantages  of  Solitude,  provided  we. 
manage  this  powerful  paflion  in  fuch  a  manner  that 
it  may  contribute  to  our  happinefs. 

Love  aflcciates  itfelf  v/illii^gly  with  the  afpe^Ti:- 
of  beautiful  nature.  The  fentiments  excited  by  the- 
view  .of  a  ple;\fing  profp^ct  iflipire  the  teader  iieait. 


26o  The  Infittence  of  Solitude* 

with  Icve,  acd  in  a  higher  degree  than  any  ctfier 
agreeal^le  t  motion  of  the  mind.  The  female  bofcm 
becomes  more  fufceptibie  under  the  filent  (hades, 
upon  the  fumraitof  a  lofty  mnmitaiii,  or,  moreef- 
pechiliy,  dariiig  the  itilinefs-  of  a  frae  night ;  and  as  a 
violent  emoti:-n  aiways  operates  more  forcibly  upon  ' 
the  weakeft  parts,  enthufiafm,  fooaer  or  laier,  draws 
sfiJe  and  fubjugates  the  heart. 

Women  mcll  certainly  feel  with  more  exqui- 
fite  fenffbility  than  men,  the  pure  and  tranquil  plea- 
fures  of  rural  life.  I'hey  enjoy  in  a  much  higher 
degree  the  beauties  of  a  lonely  walk,  the  frefhnefs 
of  a  fnadyibreft  ;  and  their  minds  admire  with  high- 
er ecftacy  the  charms  and  grandeur  of  nature. 
There  are  manyboicnis  apparently  infenfible  in  the 
atmofphere  of  a  metropolis,  which  would,  perhaps^ 
open  ihemfelves  with  rapture  m  the  country.  This 
is  the  reafon  why  the  return  of  Spring  fills  every  ten- 
der breaft  with  Love.  What  can  more  refemble 
Love,''  faid  a  celebrated  German  PhiMbpher, 
than  the  feeling  with  which  my  foul  is  infpired  at 
the  fight  of  this  magnificent  valley  thus  illumined  by 
the  ferting  fun 

Rouifeau  felt  an  inexpreiTihle  pleafure  on  view- 
ing the  early  blcjjToms  of  the  fpring  :  the  arrival  of 
that  feafon  gave  new  life  to  his  mind.  The  tender 
inclinations  of  his  fcul  increafed  at  the  fight  of  a  rich 
carpet  of  verdure ;  the  charms  of  his  mifirefs  and 
the  beauties  of  the  Ipring  were  in  his  eyes  the  famie 
thing.  His  oppreffed  heart  was  relieved  by  an  ex- 
tenfive  and  pleafmg  profpe^l  ;  and  his  relpiration 
was  much  eafier  while  he  indulged  himfelf  among 
the  flowers  cf  the  garden,  or  the  fruits  of  the  or- 
chard. 

Lovers  arebfH:  pleafed  with  retired  fituatlons ; 
they  feek  the  quietude  of  fcKtaiy  places  to  re%n 
themfelves  to  the  contemplation  of  the  onfy  ohje£l' 
f^r  whom  they  wifn  to  live.  Of  what  importance 
s^re  all  the  tranfacticn-s  of  cities  to  them,  or  any 


Ihe  Influence  of  ^ditiidc,  ^6l 

thing  indeed  that  d.-es  not  brer.the  or  infpire  the 
paflion  of  love  ?  Obfcure  chambers,  blacks  forefis 
ofiirs,  cr  lonelv  lakes,  where  i hey  may  indulge 
their  ftivoritc  reflections,  are  the  only  coiitidants  of 
thrir  fouls.  Forcfls  filled  with  gloomy  fnades,  and 
echoing  to  the  tremendous  er:gie's  cry,  are  the  fume 
to  their  minds  as  th;  iiveliefl:  champaign  country, 
where  a  lovely  (hepherdefs  m.ay  be  iten  ollering  her 
fopLering;  bofom  to  t.ie  i  :fant  me  is  nurnng,  while 
at  her  fide  her  well-bsbv^d  partner  fits,  dividing 
with  her  his  morfelof  hard  black  bread,  a  hundred 
times  more  happy  than  ail  the  fops  of  the  town.  A 
maa  of  fenf^,  when  m  love,  feels  in  a  higher  degree 
all  that  is  elevated,  pleafant,  and  aifcfting  in  na- 
ture.  Nothing  in  the  world  creates  a  finer  fenfibil- 
ity,  even  when  the  mind  is  de^itute  of  it  by  nature, 
than  love. 

The  foftefl:  images  of  love  fpring  up  anew  in 
SDli'ude.  Ah  !  h.ov/  indelible  are  the  impreffions 
made  by  the  firft  blufh  of  Icve,  the  iirri:  prellure  cf 
the  hand,  the  firft  feelings  cf  anger  againft  the  im- 
pertinent intruder  who  ffiall  interrupt  the  tender  in- 
tercourfe  !  It  has  been  frequently  conceived,  that 
time  extinguiihes  the  flame  which  love  has  crxe 
lighted  in  cur  brealis ;  but  love  has  agents  in  the 
foul  that  lie  long  conceahd,  who  wait  only  for  a 
proper  moment  to  difplay  their  power.  It  is  the 
fame  with  the  whole  courfe  of  youthful  feelings, 
and  efpecially  wiih  every  remembrance  of  our  firft 
affection  ;  delicious  rccolledlion  I  which  we  love  lb 
fondly  to  trace  back  in  our  minds. 

The  impreilion  is  indelible,  the  bofom  forever 
retains  a  fenfe  of  that  highefl  ecflacy  of  love,  which 
a  connoiifeur  kas  f  lid,  with  as  much  truth  as  ener- 
gy, proclaims  for  the  firlt  time  that  happy  difcovery, 
that  fortunare  moment,  when  two  lovers  perceive 
their  mutual  fondnefs.* 


*  No  perfon  has  dcfcribed  the  recoHcd^ion  of  that  preciou>  m.'^« 
fn.?nt  with  fo  aiucli  harmony,  fvveetncJs,  tsniersefs,  and  lenitment. 


262  The  Ivjluencc  of  Solitude* 

A  mind  fond  of  r.:f]r<rting  in  retirement  on  the 
pafTic^n  of  love,  and  which  hasNixperienced  its  plen- 
iures,  feels  again  in  thefe  ever-recurring  thouglTtS| 
the  mcft  delicious  eDj  .yments.    Herder  fays,  '^hcf 
dees  nor.  know  who  t  -e  peopb  in  Afia  were,  whofe 
mythciogy  thus  d Aided  the  epochs  of  the  moil  re-' 
mote  antiquity  :  that  men,  once  more  become  ce* 
■hflial  fpirits,  were  imraewHately  beloved  tluring 
thouf.md  years,  fiiil  byi.:oks,  then  by  a  kifs,  after- 1 
wards  by  alliance."    This  was  the  r:ohle  and  fuh-1 
iime  pafiion  which  Wiehnd  felt  during  the  v/arnieltl 
moments  of  his  youth  f:r  a  hdy  cf  Zurich,  hand- 
fome,  amiable  and  fenOble;  for  that  great  genius 
well  knew  that  the  my  fiery  of  l:^ve  begins  in  the  firil: 
ligh,  and  expires.,  in  a  certiiin  degree,  with  the  (Iril 
kits.    I  therefore  one  day  aiked  this  young  lady 
v/heii  Wieland  had  killed  her  for  the-firft  lime. 

Wieland,''  replied  the  lovely  girl,  "  kiifed  my 
hand  for  the  firii:  time  four  years  after  cur  acquaint- 
ance commenced.'^ 

But  the  mhids  of  young  perfons  who  live  in  re- 
tirement, do  not,  like  Wieland,  ieize  on  the myilic 
rtlinements  of  love.  Liftecing  attentively  to  all 
thofe  fentiments  which  the  pafTions  infpire,  lefs  fa- 
miliar with  their  abftra6tions,  their  minds  feldcrn 
taken  off  by  other  ideas,  they  feel  at  a  much  earlier 
age,  in  the' tranquillity  of  SoUtude,  that  irrefniible 
impulfe  to  the  union  of  the  iexes  vv^iiich  naiure  in- 
fpires.  A  lady  cf  my  acquaintance  who  lived  upon 
the  banks  cf  the  lake  of  Geneva  in  fjlent  Solitude, 
and  feparated  from  ail  connexion  with  the  world, 
had  three  daughters,  br/wes  pifiUKUSy  all  of  tkem  ex- 
tremely beautiful  in  their  perions,  and  equally  ami- 
able in  thtir  manners.  When  the  cidefx  was  about 
fourteen  years  cf  age,  and  the  yourgeil  was  about 
Line,  they  were  preiVnt^d  v;ith  a  tame  bird,  which 


as  Rouff.iau,  *'  Precious  nicinentf,  (o  much  legretted  !  O  !  begin 
again  v  -iu  .Jeli^htlul  courfe  ]  flow  on  \v!ch  longer  duration  in  my  le- 
iiieiabrdnce,  it  ic  be  pcilibie,  than  yoiA  did  in  rcail'^^y  m  yjur  fu^jiti^* 
tucccfiion— — 


Th  Influence  ofSylifude,  26-^^ 

kopped  and  flew  about  their  chamber  the  whole  day. 
The  young  ladies  required  no  otlier  amufement, 
fought  no  other  employment,  except  ihat  of  placing 
themfelves  on  their  knees,  acd  wi<h  unwearied  de- 
light oilering  their  Icveiy  little  favorite  a  piece  of 
?->iicuit  from  their  fingers  fc>r  hours  logether,  in  or- 
der to  lure  him  to  their  bpfonis.  The  bird,  how^ev^ 
er,  the  moment  he  had  got  the  b/Jcuit,  with  cunning 
coynefs  difappointed  their  expectations,  and  hopped 
away.  The  bird  died.  A  year  after  this  event, 
theyonngefl:  of  the  three  fillers  faid  to  her  mother, 
O,  the  dear  little  bird,  mamrnat  if  we  could  but 
j^rocurefuch  another  No,"  replied  the  c-ldefc^ 

lifter,  "  wl>at  I  fn oiild  hke  better  than  any  thing  in 
the  world;,  is  a  Utile  dog.  We  may  at  leaft  be  able 
to  touch,  to  hug,  to  take  a  Utile  dog  upon  one's 
knees  ;  but  a  bird  is  gocd  for  nothing  :  he  perches 
a  little  while  on  your  n  ^ger,  flies  away,  and  there 
is  CO  catching  him  again.  But  with  a  Uttle  dog,  O 
what  feUcity !" 

I  fhail  never  forget  the  poor  religlciife  in  whofe 
apartment  I  found  a  breeding-cage  or  canary-birds  ; 
nor  forgive  myfclf  for  having  burll  into  a  fit  of 
laughter  at  the  fight  of  this  aviary.  AL^s  !^  it  was 
the  fuggeftion  cfmUure,  and  vvho  cao  refifc  what 
nature  fuggefts  ?  This  myftic  wandering  of  religious 
minds,  tHs  celeftial  epilepfy  of  love,  this  premature 
fruit  of  Solitude,  is  only  the  fond  application  of 
one  natural  incUnation  raifed  fupedor  to  all  the 
ethers. 

Abfence  and  tranquilUty  appear  fo  favorable 
to  the  pallion  of  love,^  that  lovers  frequently  chufe 
to  quit  the  beloved  obje£l,  and  to  reReft  in  SoUtude 
on  her  cliHrmr.  Who  does  not  recoil  eel  to  have 
read  in  the  Cr-nfelTions  of  RoulTeau  the  fi:cry  rela- 
ted by  Madame  de  Luxembourg,  of  the  man  who 
quitted  the  company  of  his  miftrefs  only  that  he 
lYiight  have  the  pleaiiire  of  writing  to  her  !  Rouffeaii 
toid  Madame  de  Luxembourg  that  he  v/ifhed  he  had 


s64  The  h^ucncc  of  Solitude,  ^ 

been  that  man  ;  and  he  was  right.  In  fa£l,  who  has 
ever  loved,  and  does  not  know,  that  there  are  times 
when  the  pen  exprelTes  the  feeUr.gs  af  the  hesrt  in- 
finitely better  than  the  voice  with  its  raiferable  organ 
of  rpsech,  which  is  nothing,  and  exprelfes  nothing  ? 
Who  is  ever  more  eloquent  than  lovers  in  thofe  mc- 
nients  of  cclkcy  v;hen  they  gaze  on  each  other  and 
are  iilcnt  ? 

Lovers  not  only  feel  higher  ecflacies,  but  ex- 
prefs  their  fentiments  with  greater  happinefs,  in  Sol- 
iiude  than  in  any  o^her  fituation.  "^/v  hat  f?.lhionable 
lover  has  ever  painted  hi?  p;:ffioa  for  an  imperious 
nsiftrefs  with  rhe  lame  felicity  as  the  chorifir-r  of  a 
village  in  Hanover  for  a  young  and  be^utif  jl  coun- 
try girl  ?  Od  her  death,  the  c horiiler  laifed  in  the 
cem.etery  cf  the  cathedral  a  fepulchral  ilone  to  her 
memory,  and  carvirg  in  an  artlefs  manner  the  figure 
cf  a  role  on  its  front,  infcribed  thefe  words  under- 
ilCUfh  :  "  Cc/l  mnjl  qiHeUcfutr 

It  was  under  the  rocks  of  Vauclufc,  or  in  de- 
farts  i  till  m':^re  folitary,  that  Petrarch  compofed  his 
finerl  ionnets,  deplnriiig  the  abfence,  or  complaining 
of  t-e  cruelty,  of  hir,  beloved  Laura.  In  the  opin- 
ic  n  of  the  ItGli^.ns,  Petrarch  wrote  better  upon  the 
fuhjc-cl  of  love  than  eiU  the  other  poets  in  the  world 
before  or  fine  3  his  time,  whether  in  the  Greek, 
Latin,  or  Tufcan  hngu-^ges.  "  Ah  !  that  pure  and 
te.:ider  language  nf  the  he.^rt  !'*  f  ly  they  ;  nobo- 
dy p  fTelled  any  knov/ledgeof  it  but  Petrarch,  who 
added  to  the  three  Graces  a  fourth,  viz.  the  Grace 
of  delicacy." 

But  in  lonely  Cruatlons,  in  old  romantic  caf- 
tles,  \-?)  the  hea'  fd  im^lnatioa  of  impetuous  youth, 
Icve  alfo  freqiieally  afuimes  a  more  outre  and  ex- 
tr  ivng^mt  ch-an;.61:er.  lb  warm.,  cnthufiaPdc  minds, 
religion,  love  and  melancholy,  make  a  fubiime  and 
whi^^fical  compound  of  the  feelings  of  the  heart. 
An  ardent  young  man,  when  he  is  mclined  that  his 
miitiiefs  fhould      ferious,  talces  froiii  the  Apcca 


TA?  Infuence  6f  Soiifude, 

iypfe  the  teist  of  his  firft  declaration  of  love  ;  for 
love,  he  exclaims,  is  but  an  eternal  melaflcholy, 
and  when  he  is  inclined  to  fliarpen  the  dart  with- 
in his  breaft,  his  exalted  imagination  views  the  be- 
loved ohjecl:  as  the  faireft  model  of  divine  perfeclion. 

Our  iwo  angels,  in  their  ancient  cafllc,  no  long- 
er love  like  fonls  lefs  pure  and  noble ;  their  fenti- 
nients  more  refined,  are  alfo  more  fublime.  Sur- 
rontjded  by  rocks,  and  impreffed  by  the  fleece  of  a 
fine  night,  the  beloved  youth  is  not  only  a  man, 
kind,  rational  and  honeft,  he  is  a  God.*  '  The  in- 
ipired  mind  of  the  fond  female  fancies  her  bofom  to 
be  the  fan£luary  of  Tove,  and  conceives  her  affeiSlion 
for  the  youthful  idol  of  her  heart  to  be  an  emana- 
tion from  heaven,  a  ray  of  the  divinity  itfelf.  Or- 
dinary lovers,  without  doubt,  in  fpite  of  abfence, 
unite  their  fculs  with  each  other,  write  by  every 
poft,  feize  all  occafions  to  converfe  with  each  other, 
or  to  hear  each  other  fpeak ;  but  our  female,  more 
fublime,  more  exalted,  introduces  into  her  romance 
all  tha  butterflies  flie  meets  with,  all  the  feathered 
fongfters  of  the  groves ;  and,  except  perhaps  her 
huiband,  (he  no  longer  fees  any  thing  in  the  v/orld 
fuch  as  it  is.  The  fenfes  are  nothing ;  refinement 
directs  all  her  movements.  She  tears  the  world  from 
its  poles,  and  the  lun  from  its  axis,  to  prove  that  all 
(he  does,  all  (he  wiihes,  is  right.  She  edablifhes  a 
new  gofpel  and  a  new  fyflem  of  morality  for  herfelf 
and  her  lover.  Thefe  effects  of  love  cannot  be 
avoided  by  any  of  the  advantages  of  Solitude* 
Love,  even  of  die  moll  tranquil  kind,  that  fpecies 
which  lies  filent  in  the  bresft,  which  does  not  raiie 
cliimeras  in  the  mind,  which  does  not  refign  itfelfto 
the  delirium  of  an  ardent  imagination,  and  which  fs 


*  **  When  the  paflion  of  love  is  at  its  height,"  fays  RoufTeau,  ^'  it 
arrays  the-faeloTcd  objeft  in  every  poffible  perfeftion  ;  "makes  itanidol, 
places  it  in  Heaven  ;  and  as  tlie  enthufiafm  of  devotion  borrows  the 
langua^-e  of  iove,  the  enthuliafm  of  love  alfo  borrows  the  language  of 
devotion.  The  lover  beholds  nothing  but  paiadife,  angels,  tiie  virtue 
'•offaiftcs,  and  the  felicities  of  Heaven." 

(SXill) 


.2t><^  The  Influence  cf  Sditude. 

not  carried  into  thefe  exceHes,  in  time  confames  the 
lover,  and  renders  him  miferable.  Occupied  by  the 
idea  of  one  object,  whom  we  adore  beyond  all  oth- 
ers, all  the  faculties  of  the  foul  become  abforbed, 
and  we  abandon  a  world  which  for  us  no  longer 
poflefles  any  charms.  But  when  we  find  curfelves 
feparated  for  ever  from  the  lovely  object  who  has 
made  even  the  higheft  facriiices  to  us  in  her  power  ; 
who  adminiilered  confolation  under  all  the  afflidions 
of  cur  lives,  afforded  happinefs  under  the  greateft 
calamities,  and  fupported  us  when  all  the  powers  of 
the  foul  had  abandoned  us ;  who  continued  a  fin- 
cere  friend  when  every  other  friend  had  left  us,  when 
oppreiTed  bydomeftx  forrows,  when  rendered  inca- 
pable of  either  thought  or  action  ;  then  to  languifh 
m  a  llothfui  SoUtude  becomes  our  only  pleafure. 
The  night  is  faffed  in  fleeplefs  agonies ;  while  a  dif- 
guft  of  life,  a  defire  of  death,  an  abhorrence  of  all 
fociety,  and  a  love  of  the  moft  frightful  defarts, 
prey  upon  the  heart,  and  drive  us,  day  after  day, 
wandering,  as  chance  may  dire<51:,  through  the  moil 
folitary  retirements,  far  from  the  hateful  traces  of 
mankind.  Were  we,  however,  to  wander  from  the 
Elbe  to  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  to  feek  relief  from  the 
north  to  the  weft,  even  to  the  fhorcs  of  the  fea,  we 
inould  fxill  be  like  the  hind  defcribcd  in  Virgil, 

SiruDg  with  the  ftroke,  and  madding  with  the  pain, 
SKe  wildly  flies  from  wood  to  wood  in  irain  ; 
Shoots  o'er  the  Cretan  lawns  with  many  a  bound, 
'i'he  cleaving  dart  llill  rankling  in  the  wound  1"' 

ViRHiL,  Book  IV.  line  II0« 

Petrarch  experienced  the  accumulated  torments 
of  love  in  his  new  refidence  at  Vauclufe.  Scarcely 
had  he  arrived  there,  when  the  imrge  of  Laura  in- 
ceffantly  haunted  his  mind.  He  beheld  her  at  all 
times,  in  every  place,  under  a  tiioufand  different 
forms.  "  Three  times,^'  fays  he,  "  in  the  dead  of 
night,  when  every  door  was  clofed,  fhe  appeared  to 
me  at  the  feet  of  my  bed  with  a  certain  look  which 


The  Lifuence  of  Solitude,  267 

announced  the  power  of  her  charms.  Fear  fpread 
a  chilling  dew  over  all  my  limbs.  My  blood  thrill- 
ed through  my  veins  towards  my  heart.  If  any  cne 
had  then  entered  my  room  with  a  candle,  they  would 
have  beheld  me  as  pale  as  death,  with  every  mark 
of  terror  in  my  face.  Before  day  break  I  role  trem- 
bling from  my  bed,  and  haflily  leaving  my  houie, 
where  every  thing  excited  alarm,  I  climbed  to  the 
fammit  of  the  rocks,  ran  through  the  woods,  caft- 
ing  my  eyes  continually  around  to  fee  if  the  form 
that  had  difturbed  my  repofe  ftill  purfued  me.  I 
could  find  no  afylum :  in  the  moft  fequeftered  pla- 
ces where  I  flattered  myfelf  that  I  ihould  be  alone, 
I  frequently  faw  her  ifTuing  from  the  trunk  of  a  tree, 
from  the  head  of  a  clear  Ipriog,  from  the  cavity  of 
a  rock.  Fear  rendered  me  inlenlible,  and  I  neither 
knew  what  1  did  nor  where  I  went." 

To  an  imagination  Tubje<fl  to  fuch  violent  con^- 
vulfions,  Solitude  affords  no  remedy  ;  Ovid,  there" ^ 
tbre,  has  very  juftly  fald, 

But  Solitude  rauft  never  be  allow'd  : 

A  lover's  ne'er  To  fafe  as  in  a  crowd  ; 

For  private  places  private  grief  incieafe  ; 

What  haunts  you  there,  in  company  will  ceale. 

If  to  th-^  gloomy  de(  rt  ypu  repair, 

Your  miliiels'  angry  form  will  meet  you  there." 

Ovi  d's  RaneJy  of  Lovei 

Pet**arch  Ic-arnt  from  the  firfl  emotions  of  his 
palTion,  how  ufelefs  are  all  attempts  to  fly  from 
love  ;  and  he  fought  the  rocks  and  forefts  in  vain. 

There  is  no  place,  however  favage  and  forlorn^ 
where  Icve  will  not  force  its  way.  'llie  pure  and 
limpid  fiream  of  Vauclufe,  the  fiiady  woods  adorn- 
ing ihe  little  valley  in  wl  ich  the  fiream  arofe,  ap- 
peared to  him  the  only  places  to  abate  the  fierce--- 
nefs  of  thofe  fires  which  confumed  his  hearr.  The 
moft  frightful  defarts,  the  decpefl  forefts,  mouu- 
tains  almofl  inaccelTible,  were  to  him  the  mcfc  agree- 
able abodes.  But  love  purfued  his  fl^ps  wherever 


26 S  The  Influence  of  Solitude. 

be  \-v^nt,  and  left  him  no  place  of  refuge.  His  wholcr 
foul  flaw  back  to  Avignon. 

Solitude  alfo  affords  no  remedy  for  love  when 
it  is  injurious  to  Virtue.  To  an  honeft  mind  the 
prelence  of  the  beloved  obje£t  is  never  dangerous^ 
iikhough  the  pafTion  may  have  taken  a  criminal  turn 
in  the  heart.  On  the  contrary,  while  abfence  and 
Solitude  foment  all  the  fecret  movements  of  the  fen- 
fes  and  the  imagination,  the  fight  of  the  beloved 
cbjecl  deftroys,  in  a  \  irtucus  breaft,  every  forbid- 
ceii  defire ;  for  in  abfence  the  lover  thinks  him- 
itlf  fecure,  and  confequently  indulges  his  imagina* 
tion  witi^ut  relb-aint.  Solitude,  more  than  any  oth- 
er fituation,  recalls  to  ihe  mind  e^^ery  voluptucua 
idea,  every  thing  that  animates  defire  and  inflames 
the  heart :  no  danger  being  apprehended,  the  lov- 
er walks  boldly  on  in  the  flattering  paths  of  an 
agreeable  illufion,  until  the  paflion  acquires  a  dan- 
gerous empire  in  his  breaft. 

The  heart  of  Petrarch  was  frequently  flimula- 
ted  by  ideas  of  voluptuous  plealiire,  evfo  among 
the  rocks  of  Vauclufe,  where  he  fought  an  afylum 
from  Icve  and  Laura.*  But  he  foon  banifhed  fen- 


*  V/€  read  in  a  variety  of  books,  now  no  longer  known*  that  Pe- 
trarch lived  at  Vauclufe  with  Laura,  and  that  ha  had  formed  a  fub- 
jterraneoud  paffage  from  her  houfe  to  his  own.  Petrarch  was  not  fo 
happy,  Laura  was  married,  and  lived  with  her  hufband,  I-luguss  de 
Sadec,  St  Avignon,  the  place  of  her  nativity  and  where  /he  died.  She 
was  the  mother  of  eleven  children,  which  had  fo  debilitated  her  confti- 
tution,  that  at  five-and-thirty  yeais  of  age,  no  traces  of  her  former 
beauty  remained.  She  experienced,  aUb,  many  domeftic  forrows.  Her 
.aulhind  was  incapable  of  appreciating  the  value  of  her  virtues,  and  the 
wopricty  of  her  c«ndu£t.  He  was  jealous  without  caufe,  and  evea 
withaut  love,  which,  in  a  woman,  was  ftill  more  moitifying.  Pr- 
uarch,  on  the  contraiy,  loved  Laura  during  thecourfe  of  twenty  years  j 
iiiutjae  was  not  f'iffeved  to  vifit  her  at  her  own  houfe  ;  for  her  hufoand 
^lidotn,  if  ever,  left  her  alone.  He,  therefore,  had  no  opportunity  of 
beholding  his  charming,  iiis  amiable  Laura,  except  at  church,  at  af- 
iemblies^  or  upon  tiie  public  walks,  and  then  never  abne.— -Her  hufband 
fieqaently  forbid  her  to  walk  even  with  her  deareft  friends,  asd  his 
Tnind  was  rendered  furious  whenever  flis  indulged  in  the  flighteft  plea- 
Hure.  Laura  was  born  in  the  year  1307  or  1308,  and  was  two  or  three 
"ears  younger  than  Petraicb.-  She  died  of  the  plague  in  the  year  1348. 
Seven  ypars  after  her  death  her  hufband  married  again,  and  i'etraicli 
4jiviv£dh€i      p'ucutthe  cemrae.': cement  of  the  vear  1374. 


Iiifluence  cf  Sdiiiulf*  76^ 

!'i?.irty  from  his  mind:  the  pafllon  of  his  foul  then 
became  refined,  and  acquired  that  vivacity  and  hea- 
venly purity  which  breathe  in  every  hne  of  tho(e 
immortal  lyrics  he  compofed  upon  the  rock?.  I'he 
city  of  Avignon,  where  his  Laura  refiied,  was-» 
however,  too  near  to  him,  and  he  vifited  it  too  fre- 
quently. A  love  like  his  never  leaves  the  heart 
one  moment  of  tranquillity  ;  it  is  a  fever  of  the  foul, 
I  which  affli^ls  the  body  with  a  complication  of  the 
1  moft  painful  diforders.  Let  a  lover,  therefore, 
'  while  his  mind  is  yet  able  to  controul  the  emotions 
of  his  heart,  feat  himfelf  on  the  banks  of  a  rivulet, 
and  think  that  his  pnffion,  like  the  ftreara  which 
now  precipitates  irfelf  with  noile  down  the  rock^j^ 
Riay  in  peaceful  (hades  and  folitar^'-  bowers  How 
acrofs  the  meadows  and  the  plains  in  filence  and 
tranquillity. 

Love  unites  itfe^.f  to  tranquillity  when  the  mind 
fiibmits  v.hh  hnmjJir\''  to  all  the  difpenfations  of 
Heaven.  If,  when  death  bereaves  a  lover  of  the 
ohje^  of  his  affection,  he  is  unable  to  live,  excepfc 
in  thofe  places  where  Ihe  was  ufed  to  dwell,  and  all 
the  world  befides  looks  defart  and  forlorn,  death 
alone  can  flop  the  torrent  of  his  tears.  But  is  it 
not  by  yielding  himfelf  to  the  prefTure  of  his  alHic- 
tion,  that  he  can  be  faid  to  devote  himfelf  to  God. 
The  lover,  when  opprelTed  by  forrow,  conftantly 
attaches  himfelf  to  the  obje6l  hich  is  no  more,  and 
never  can  return.  He  feeks  for  what  he  cannot 
find  ;  he  hftens,  but  hears  nothing he  fancies  that 
he  beholds  the  lovely  form  alive  and  breathing, . 
when  it  is  only  a  phantom,  a  vifionary  produdioa 
of  his  heated  imagination.  He  gathers  rofes  from 
the  tomb  of  her  on  whom  all  the  happinefs  of  his 
iife  depended  ;  he  waters  them  with  his  tears,  cul- 
tivates them  with  the  tendereft  care,  places  them 
in  his  bofom,  kifTes  them  with  rapture,  and  enjoys ' 
their  foothing  fragrance  with  melancholy  tranfport  ; 
but  ih^k  nleafures  alfo  vanifh ;  the  rofes  drcop  thdr  - 
(XXllI  2) 


27*  The  Ihfiience  of  SoTitude^ 

heads  and  die.  It  is  not  until  the  lover  hasrlbng: 
wreflled  wiih  the  rigors  of  fate,  until  the  arms  have 
long  been  in  vain  extended  to  embrace  the  beloved 
©bjeft,  until  the  eye  has  long  fixed  its  viev/  upon 
the  eherifhed  fhade,  until  all  hope  of  re-union  is 
gone,  that  the  mind  begins  gradually  to  feel  its  re- 
turning powers,  aflumes  an  heroic  courage  agairft 
its  misfortune,  endeavors  to  conquer  the  weaknefs 
of  the  heart,  and  perceives  the  return  of  its  former 
tranquillity.  Thefe  cures,  however,  can  only  be 
effeded  in  vigorous  minds,  v/ho  alone  crown  what- 
ever they  undertake,  with  fuccels :  vigorcrus  minds 
alone  find  in  Sohtude  that  peace  which  the  whole 
Bniverfe,  with  all  its  pleafures  and  difFipaiion,  can- 
Bot  procure. 

The  victory  which  the  virtuous  Petrarch  ac- 
quired over  the  paffion  which  afiailed  his  hearty 
mufl  afford  pleafore  to  every  mind.  When  he  fought 
refuge  ia  Italy  from  Icve  and  Laura^  his  friends  in 
France  ufed  every  endeavor  to  induce  him  to  re- 
turn. One  of  them  wrote  to  him  : — "  What  dae- 
mon pofiefTes  you  ?  How  could  you  quit  a  country 
where  y«u  have  enjoyed  all  the  delights  of  youth, 
and  where  that  graceful  pei  fon  which  you  former- 
ly adorned  with  to  much  care,  procured  you  fo  ma- 
ny pleafures  ?  How  can  you  live  thus  exiled  ivom 
your  Liura,  v/hom  you  love  v/ith  lb  much  tender- 
nefs,  and  whofe  heart  is  lo  deeply  aiiiided  by  your 
abience  V 

Petrarch  replied  : — "  Your  anxiety  is  vain  ; 
my  refolution  is  to  continue  w^here  I  am.  I  am 
here  at  anchor  ;  and  neitiier  the  impetuofity  of  the 
Pvhone,  nor-  the  charms  of  your  eloquence,  fh:all  ev- 
er drive  me  from  it.  To  perfuade  me  to  change 
this  relblution,  you  place  before  my  eyes  the  devi- 
ations of  ray  youth,  v/hich  I  ought  to  forget ;  a 
paflion  V  hicli  left  me  no  other  relburce  than  a  pre- 
cipitate flight,  a'jd  the  contemptible  merit  of  a  hand- 
fome  peribn,  which  too  long  occupied  myatteation» 


The  Influence  of  Solitiule* 


The  period  is  arrived,  when  I  muft  no  longer  think 
of  thofe  ibllies  ;  I  have  left  them  bei  ind  me  ;  and 
I  rapidly  approach  to  the  end  of  my  career.  My 
mind  is  now  occupied  by  more  ferious  and  impor- 
tant obje<5i:s.    God  forbid,  that  liftening  to  your 
flattering  counfel,  i  fhould  again  throw  mvfelf  into 
the  fnares  of  love;  again  put  on  a  yoke  I  have  al- 
ready fo  feverely  felt  I  It  was  conlifbent  with  the  age 
of  youth,  but  I  ftiould  now  bluih  to  be  a  fubjeft  of 
converfation  to«he  world,  and  to  fee  myfelf  painted 
at  as  I  walked  along.    1  confider  all  your  folicita- 
tions,  and,  indeed,  all  you  tell  me,  as  a  fevere  crit- 
ique upon  my  conduct.    My  love  of  Solitude  takes 
root  in  this  place  ;  I  fly  from  town,  and  ftroll  at 
random  about  the  fields,  without  care,  without  in- 
quietude.  In  fummer  I  flretch  myfelf  beneath  the 
fhade  upDU  the  verdant  turf,  or  launter  on  the  bor- 
ders of  a  purling  ftream,  an  J  defy  the  heats  of  Ita- 
ly.   On  the  approach  of  autumn  I  feek  the  woods,- 
and  join  the  mufes'  train.  This  mode  of  life  appears 
to  rae  preferable  to  a  life  at  court — a  life  occupied 
only  by  ambition  and  envy.    I  walk  with  pleafure 
on  the  plains  of  Italy ;  the  air  of  tfie  climate  is  to 
me  ferene  and  pure.    When  death  fnall  put  a  peri- 
od to  my  labors,  1  only  afk  the  confolation  of  rep:?- 
fing  my  head  upon  the  bofom  of  a  friend,  whofe 
eyes,  while  he  clofes  mine,  will  deplore  my  lofs,  and 
whofe  kind  care  will  convey  me  to  a  tomb  in  the 
bofom  of  my  country." 

Thefe  were  the  fentiments,  the  philofophical 
fsntiments  of  Petrarch  ;  but  he  returned  foon  after- 
wards to  Avignon,  from  whence  he  continued  from 
time  to  time  to  vifit  Vauclufe. 

Petrarch  himfelf  acknowledged,  with  that 
fi-anknefs  which  was  natural  to  his  character,  how 
much  his  unfettled  foul  wavered  between  love  and 
reafon.  From  his  retirement  at  Vauclufe,  he  wrote 
to  his  friend  Pallrengo : — "  Perceiving  that  there  is' 
CO  other  way  to  eifeit  my  cure  thaa  to  abandon: 


i,.7  «  "^^^^  Influence  of  SoIiiuch\ 

Avi,2;non,  I  have  determined  to  leave  it,  notwith'-  - 
ilandlng  all  the  eff:rts  of  my  friends  to  detaia  me.  - 
Aks  !  their  friend  (h  ip  only  tends  to  render  me  un- 
happy !  1  fought  this  Solitude  as  an  afj^lum  againft 
the  tempers  of  life,  and  to  live  here  yet  a  httle  wrile 
retired  and  alone  before  I  die.  I  already  perceive 
that  I  am  near  rny  end ;  but  I  feel  with  infinite 
pieafure  that  my  mind  is  much  more  free ;  and  the 
life  which  I  lead  here  appears  to  me  hke  that  of  the 
happy  in  heaven.  Oblerve,  how.^ver,  the  preva- 
lence of  habit;  and  the  force  of  pailion  ;  for  with- 
out having  any  bufinefs  1  frequently  return  to  that 
hateful  city.  1  run  voluntarily  into  the  fame  fnares  ^ 
by  which  I  was  firfl  caught.  An  adverfe  wind  drives 
me  from  the  port  x\  hich  I  have  entered,  upon  that 
troubled  ocean  where  I  have  lO  frequently  bren  (hip- 
wrecked.  I  am  no  fooner  there  than  1  feel  ray felf 
in  a  velTel  tolled  about  by  the  tempeft.  I  perceive 
the  heavens  on  fire,  the  fea  raging,  and  dangers  fur- 
roimding  me  on  every  fide.  Death  prefents  u felf 
to  my  eyes  ;  but  what  is  fbill  worfe  than  death,  I 
turn  from  my  piefent  life  with  averfioD,  and  dread 
that  which  is  to  come.^^ 

Paftrengo  replied  as  a  friend,  who  knew  not 
cnly  what  Petrarch  praftifed,  but  the  kind  of  fen- 
liments  which  would  make  him  feel  that  which  he 
was  defghted  to  perform  "  It  is  with  pleafure  I 
learn,"  fays  he,  that  you  have  burft  open  the 
doors  of  your  prifon,  fhaken  off  your  chains,  and 
let  ycurfelf  free  ;  that  after  a  violent  tempeit  you 
have  at  laft  reached  the  port  you  wifhed  to  gain, 
and  ride  fafe  in  the  harbor  of  quiet  life.  I  can  at  ' 
this  diftance  difcover  every  thing  you  do,  day  after 
day,  in  your  retreat  at  Vauclufe.  At  the  earlieft' 
dawn  of  day,  awakened  by  the  warblers  of  your 
groves,  and  the  murmurs  of  your  fpring,  ycu  climb 
the  hills  yet  covered  with  the  dev/,  and  from  thence 
view  the  fertile  plains,  the  cultivated  vallies,  fmiling 
at  ycur  feet  j  -  difcovcringj  now  and  then,  the  dii- 


The  Influence  of  Solifulu  273" 

tant  fea  bearing  the  freighted  veffels  to  their  portsr^ 
The  tablets  are  reiidy  in  your  hand,  to  note  down 
the  thoughts  which  fill  your  mind.    When  the  fun 
rifes  above  the  horizon,  you  feek  ycur  humble  cot-, 
partake  of  a  frugal  repall,  and  enjoy  undifturbed 
repofe.  To  avoid  the  meridian  heat  of  the  day,  you 
retire  into  the  vales,  virhere  your  delightful  ipring, 
precipitating  over  the  rocks  with  echoing  founds, 
pours  forth  its  wandering  ftream,  and  forms  the 
charming  river  which  fertilizes  the  valley  of  Vau- 
clufe.    1  fee  the  cavern  through  which  the  water, 
fometimes  low  and  tranquil,  enters,  and  where^ 
e  ven  in  the  hotteft  day  of  fummer,  there  breathes  fa 
.    frefh  an  air.    Within  the  (hades  of  that  grotto, 
.whofe  arched  and  lofty  roof  hangs  over  the  moving 
I    cryiial  of  the  flream,  I  perceive  you  fitting,  gnjoy- 
j    ing  with  raviihed  eyes  the  enchanting  view  which 
I    lies  before  you :  your  imagination  warms,  your 
!    foul  takes  its  intelle6i:ual  flight,  and  then  you  pro- 
duce your  choiceft  works.   Thus  retired,  you  con- 
fider  all  the  vanities  of  this  world  as  a  lignt  (hadow 
Wiuch  has  p?.fl£d  away,  and  quietly  renounce  them 
to  a  more  ufeful  employment  ©f  your  time.  Whea 
you  quit  the  grotto  your  tablets  are  full.   Do  nor, 
however,  flatter  yourfelf  that  ycu  alone  eisjoy  thefe 
treafures  of  your  foul ;  for  mine,  which  never  quits 
you,  participates  with  you  in  this  ufeful  and  agree- 
able enjoyment.'* 

Such  was  the  felicity  which  Petrarch  tafted  at 
Vauclufe,  in  the  midi^  of  fo  many  dangers  ;  a  feh-. 
■  city  which  Love,  too  impatient  for  enjoym,ent,  can 
never  confer  :  but  Sohtude,  judicioufly  employed, 
diffipates  all  the  pangs  with  which  this  paflion  tears 
the  heart,  and  alf ords  a  com.penfation  for  thefe  plea- 
fures  which  it  takes  away.  Nor  are  all  the  confcLi- 
tions  of  life  loit  in  Solitude  to  the  bofom  of  an  un- 
happy lover.  He  contemplates  without  regret  the 
paft  pleafures  of  love ;  thofe  fhort-lived  pleafures 
which  can  no  more  return.  The  time  arrives  whea 


274  '^^^  Influence  of  Mittm. 

he  ceafes  to  weep  and  fuffer,  and  on  t^e  bed  of 
death  he  exclaims  with  a  tranquil  figh,  O  !  love-t 
ly  objed:  of  my  foul !  if  you  fhould  learn  my  fatey^ 
a  love  like  mine  may  well  deferve  ihe  tribute  of 
tear,  and  c?Jl  one  gentle  figh  from  your  relenting] 
heart.  Forget  my  faults,  and  while  my  virtues  live^ 
let  my  follies  die  within  your  bofomi" 

It  was  thus  in  ftruggling  rgainft  the  prevalence 
of  his  pafTioD,  that  Petrarch  role  to  that  fublimity, 
and  acquired  that  richnefs  of  imagination,  wfeich  dil- 
tinguifhed  ins  charafter.  He  acquired,  even  at  this 
period,  an  afcendancy  over  the  age  in  which  he  liv- 
ed, greater  than  any  individual  has  fmce,  in  any 
country  b:en  able  to  obtain.  His  mind  palTed  with 
the  happieft  facility  from  grave  to  gay  fubjedls ; 
and  he  wus  enabled,  when  occafion  required  it,  to 
adopt  the  boldeft  refolutions,  and  perform  the  moft 
courageous  actions.  Petrarck,  v/ho  at  the  feet  cf 
women  wept,  fighed,  and  fobbed  like  a  cV  ild  ;  who 
cnly  wrote  on  Laura  the  fcft  and  languifning  verfes 
which  his  paflion  infpired  ;  no  foor.er  turned  his  eyes 
towards  Rome  than  his  fbyle  alTumed  a  bold  and 
manly  tone,  and  his  letters  were  written  v»iih  all  the 
fti-^rgih  and  fpirit  of  the  Auguftan  age.  Mon- 
archs,*  while  they  read  his  lyric  poetry,  have  for- 
got the  calls  of  hunger  and  the  channs  of  fleep.  At 
a  more  advanced  pericd  of  his  fJ'e,  however,  he 
v/p.s  no  longer  the  iighing  mufe  of  love,  who  only 
chaunted  amorous  verfes  at  the  feet  of  his  lelentlei's 
miftrefs ;  he  was  no  longer  an  efFemin«te  ilave,  who 
killed  the  chains  of  an  imperious  female,  from  whom 
he  only  received  marks  of  contempt  and  averfion  \ 
but  with  a  republican  intrepidiiy  Petrarch  regene- 
i-ated  the  love  of  liberty  throughout  Italy,  and  found- 
ed the  ^iarm  agaicft  tyranny  and  tyrants.  A  great 
Ratefmac,  a  profound  and  judicious  misiiler,  he  was 


*  Robert,  King  ofNaples,  frequently  relinquiflied  the  moil  ferl- 
ous  affairs  to  read  the  works  of  t^etrar«b^  wkhout  thinking  either  o* 
hia  meals  or  -his  beds 


Pl^^^.        The  hjliience  cf  ScUtudc,  27^ 

■coinmiially  confaltcd  upon  the  mr^fl  important  af- 
fairs then  tranfacling  in  Europe,  and  frequently  em- 
ployed  in  the  moit  arduous  negociations.  A  zeal- 
ous friend  to  humanity,  he  endeavored  upon  all  oc- 
cafioDS  to  extinguiih  the  torch  cf  difcord.  Poflefl- 
ing  an  extraordinary  genius,  the  greatefl  Princes  lo- 
Hcited  his  com.pany,  endeavored  to  form  their  minds 
from  his  cpinioDS,  and  dudied  from  his  precepts  the 
great  art  of  rendering  the'r  fubjects  happy. 

By  thefe  trai's  we  diicover  that  Petrarch,  nct- 
withflanding  the  violence  of  his  paiTion,  enjoyed  all 
the  advantages  of  Solitude.  His  viiits  to  Vauclufe 
were  not,  as  is  generally  conceived,  that  he  might 
be  nearer  to  Laura ;  for  Laura  refided  altogether  at 
Avignon  :  but  that  he  might  avjid  the  frowns  of 
his  miftrefs,  and  rhe  c{j rruptions  of  the  Court.  Seat- 
ed in  h's  f.ttle  garden,  which  was  ftuated  at  the 
toot  of  a  lofty  mountain,  and  furrounded  by  a  rap- 
id ftream,  his  foul  rofe  fupei^i^r  to  the  adverfities  of 
his  tate.  He  polTeired  indeed,  by  nature,  a  reftlcfs 
and  unquiet  miad  ;  was  freque  ntly  dilpleafed  be- 
caufe  he  v/as  not  at  fcm.e  difiiint  place,  to  which  it 
was  imprffihle  he  could  ever  go  ;  frequently  bs- 
caufe  he  hoked  in  vaia  for  fomething  which  it  was 
impoflible  he  fhould  find.  Petrarch,  in  fhort,  pof- 
lefied  all  thofe  defects  which  generally  accompany 
men  of  genius.  But  in  his  moments  of  tranquillity, 
a  found  judgment,  joined  to  an  exquTre  feniibility, 
enabled  him  to  enjoy  the  delights  of  Solitude  fupe- 
rior  to  any  mortal  that  ever  exifted,  either  before  or 
fmce  his  time ;  and  in  thefe  moments  Vauclufe  w^as, 
to  his  feelings,  the  temple  cf  Peace,  the  refidence 
of  calm  repofe,  a  fafe  harbor  againft  all  the  tempers 
cf  the  foul. 

Solitude  therefore,  although  it  canno""  always 
conquer  love,  refines  and  fanfiifies  the  E"of  ardent 
flame.  The  palTions  wTach  the  Gcd  of  nature  or- 
ginally  planted  in  the  heart  of  man,  ought  to  re-- 
main  undeftroyed  within  his  bre;u^,  but  he  fnould 


27^  The  hfiiaKC  of  Bolkiiile* 

leara  to  direct  them  to  their  proper  ends.  If,  there-a 
fore,  3^011  are  inclined  to  be  h?-pnier  than  Pefrarch,i| 
Orare  the  pleafures  of  your  retirement  with  {bma 
;imiable  character,  who,  better  than  the  cold  pre- 
cepts of  philcfcphy,  will  beguile  or  banifh  by  the 
charms  of  ccn variation  ail  the  cares  and  torments  of 
life.  A  truly  wife  man  has  faid,  that  the  prefe nee 
of  one  thinking  being  like  ourfelves,  whole  bofcm 
-glows  with  fympathy  and  love,  fo  far  from  dcflroy- 
ing  the  advantag:es  of  Solitude,  renders  them  raore 
iavorable.  If,  like  me,  you  ov/e  your  hippinefs  to 
tlie  fond  affection  of  a  wife,  (he  will  foon  induce 
you  to  forget  the  fociety  of  men,  by  a  tender  and 
tmreferved  communication  of  every  (entiment  of  her 
mind,  of  every  fecret  fecliiig  of  her  heart ;  and  the 
employments,  the  bufmcfs,  the  vicilTiludes  of  hfe 
will  render,  by  their  variety,  the  fubje^l.^  of  confi- 
dential difcourie  and  fweet  dvomeftic  converfe  pro- 
portionably  diverf  fied.  The  orator  who  Ipeaks  up- 
on this  fubje^l  with  fo  much  truth  and  eneigy,  rniit 
have  felt  with  exquiiite  fenftbility  the  pleaiures  of 
domeiiic  happinefs. — Here,"  fiiys  he,  "  every 
kind  exprefiion  is  remembered ;  the  emotions  cf  one 
heart  re-a£i:s  v/ith  corrtfpon  dent  effedts  upon  the 
other  ;  every  thought  is  treafured  up ;  every  tefci- 
mony  of  affe6licn  returned  ;  the  happy  pair  enjoy  ^ 
in  each  ether's  company  all  the  pleaiures  of  the 
mind,  and  ihere  is  no  feeling  which  does  not  com.-  ; 
municate  itfelf  to  their  hearts.  To  beings  thus  uni- 
ted by  the  fincereft  affeQ:icn  and  the  clofefi:  friend- 
fnip,  every  thing  that  is  laid  or  done,  every  wifh  and 
every  event  becomes  mutually  important.  Beings 
thus  united,  and  they  alone,  regard  the  advantages 
which  they  feverally  polfefs,  with  a  joy  and  fatisfac- 
lion  untinctured  by  envy.  It  is  only  under  fuch  an 
union  that  faults  are  pointed  out  with  cautious  ten- 
dernefs,  and  without  ill  nature  ;  tha':  looks  befpeak 
the  inclinations  of  the  foul ;  that  the  gratification  of 
^very  wiih  and  delire  is  anticipated ;  that  ever/ 


Ths  l7:JJu^}hV  of  Soiituilc,  27  7 

view  aud  inrention  is  affimilated  :  that  the  fentiments 
of  the  cne  conform  to  thole  of  the  other  ;  and  that 
evach  rejoices  wi'h  cordiality  at  the  fmalleft  advan- 
tage which  the  other  acqivres." 

Thus  it  is  thatScHtude  which  wefhare  with  an 
amiable  obje^l:  procures  us  tranquillity,  fatisfa(5llcn, 
heartfelt  joy ;  and  the  humbleft  cottage  becomes 
the  dwclling-phce  of  the  pureft  plea  lure.  Love  io 
-  the  retreats  of  Solitude,  while  the  mind  and  the 
heart  are  in  harmony  with  each  other,  is  capable  of 
preferving  the  nobleft  fer.timents  in  the  foul,  of  rail- 
ing the  underftanding  to  the  higheft  degree  of  ele-« 
vation,  of  filling  the  bofom  with  new  benevolence, 
of  rooting  out  all  the  feeds  of  vice,  of  ftrengtheninp; 
and  extending  all  the  virtues^  The  attacks  of  ill 
humor  are  by  this  means  fubdued,  the  violence  of 
tlie  paffions  moderated,  and  the  bitter  cup  of  afilic- 
tion  fweetened.  It  is  thus  that  an  happy  love  ren- 
ders Solitude  ferene,  alleviates  all  the  fufferings  of 
the  world,  and  ftrews  the  Iweeteft  flowers  along  the 
paths  of  life. 

Solitude  frequently  converts  the  deep  anguifh 
of  diilrefs  into  a  foothing  melancholy.  Every  ihir.g 
which  operates  with  a  gentlenefs  on  the  foul  is  a 
falutary  balm  to  a  wounded  heart.   This  is  the  rea- 
fon  why  every  malady  of  the  body,  every  fuffering 
^  of  the  mind,  feels  fuch  fenfible  efFeds  frofn  the  con- 
folatory  exprelTions,  the  kind  affability,  the  interel^- 
ing  anxieties  of  a  viriucus  wife.    Difgufted,  alas! 
,   by  the  treatment  of  the  world,  and  diipleaied  with 
every  thing  around  me  ;  when  fatiety  had  weaken- 
ed all  the  vigor  and  deftroyed  every  energy  of  my 
'   foul ,  when  i  no  long  r  hoped  for  relief ;  w^hen  grief 
concealed  dl  the  beauty  of  nature  in^m  ray  eye?, 
,   and  rendered  the  whoh  univerfe  a  lifelefs  tomb,  the 
I   kind  attention  of  a  wife  conveyed  a  fecret  charm,  a 
j   corfolatcrv  virtue  to  my  m.ind.'  O  i  nothing  can  fo 
I   fweeily  foften  all  our  fuiferings  as  a  convifdoa  that 
woman  is  not  indifferent  to  our  fate. 

(XXIV) 

I 


The  Infliumce  of  SoIitucL'* 


Rm?l  fcenery,  of  a  thcufand  difFerent  kinds, 
affords  to  the  dillraclcd  boibm  the  fame  tranquillity 
which  the  attentions  and  converfations  of  an  amia- 
ble vvife  procure  to  a  fick  and  fuffering  hufband ; 
they  change  all  the  aiB'6tions  of  his  foul,  all  the  cp- 
prefeons  of  his  mind,  into  trie  ibfteil  forrow  and  the 
mildefl  p;rirf. 

Solitude  frequently  infpires  a  foft  mdanchaly, 
even  in  per  ions  of  the  tendereft  years.  Young  fe- 
males from  fifteen  to  eighteen  years  of  age«  who  pof- 
feCs  fine  fenfibllities  and  lively  imaginations,  expe- 
rience tiiis  difpofition,  when,  in  the  retirement  of 
rural  life,  they  feel  the  firli  defres  of  love ;  when, 
wandering  every  where  in  fearch  of  a  beloved  ob- 
jzdi,  they  figh  for  one  al  .ne,  although  their  hearts 
have  not  yet  fixed  on  any  particular  obje<5l  of  af- 
f^6lion.  I  have  frequently  feen  this  fpecies  of  mel- 
ancholy without  any  other  fymptoms  of  malady, 
Roufieau  was  attacked  with  it  at  Vevai  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Lu:e  of  Geneva.  "  My  heart,"  fays  , 
:Iie,  rufhed  wirh  ardor  from  my  bofom  into  a 
thoufand  innocent  felicities :  melting  to  tendernefs, 
I  fighed  and  wept  like  a  child.  How  frequently, 
ilopping  to  indulge  my  feelings,  and  feating  m.yfelf 
on  a  piece  of  broken  rock,  did  I  amufe  myfeif  with 
ieeing  my  tears  drop  into  the  dream !"  I  cannot 
uiyfelf  trap.fcribe  ti.eie  lines  without  fliedding  tears  * 
on  recolleCl:Dg,  that  in  tiie  (eventeenth  year  of  my 
age,  I  frequentlv  fe:Ued  myfeif  with  fimilar  agitation 
under  the  peaceful  ihades  of  thofe  delightful  fhores. 
Love  relieved  iiiy  pains  ;  love,  fo  fweetly  enjoyed 
among  the  gr  ;ve?  which  adorn  the  banks  of  the  Lake 
of  Geneva     love,  the  only  difeaie  which  Solitude 


*  There  is  no  native,  or  indeed  a?iy  perfon  pofiefTing  fenfibllity, 
©f  whatever  country  he  may  be,  who  has  ever  beheld  without  feeling 
the  tendereft  emouon,  the  delightful  borders  of  the  L  ke  of  Geneva  ; 
<-he  enchanting  fpeclacle  which  nature  there  exhibits:  and  the  vaftand 
majellic  horizon  which  thra  mafs  of  water  prefents  to  the  view  Who 
has  ever  returned  from  this  fcene  without  t.iunin^^  back  his  eyes  onthis 
if;ter;ftir>s  pidt.ure,  and  expsviencing  the  fame  a^^.dtion  with  which  the 


The  Lifuence  of  Sdltude,  2  79 

cannot  cure  ;  and  which  indeed  we  wiilingly  endiiv2 
without  wifliing  for  reUef.  To  iiiifer  with'fo  much 
foftnefs  and  tranquillity  ;  to  indulge  in  tender  for- 
row  without  exadly  knov/in?;  why,  and  ilill-  to  pre- 
fer retirement ;  to  love  the  lonely  margin  of  a  lim- 
pid lake ;  to  wander  alone  upon  broken  rocks,  in 
deep  caverns,  ia  dreary  forefts ;  to  feel  no  pleafures 
but  in  the  fublime  and  beautiful  of  nature,  in  thcfe 
beauties  which  the  world  defpife ;  to  defire  the 
company  of  only  one  other  being  to  whom  we  may 
communicate  the  ienfations  of  the  foul,  wdio  would 
participate  in  all  cur  pleafures,  and  forget  every- 
thing eife  in  theuniverfe  ;  this  is  a  condition  w^hich 
every  ycung  m.an  ought  to  wifh  for,  v/ho  wifhes  to 
fly  from  the  mercilefs  approaches  of  a  cold  old  age.* 

It  is  not,  however,  to  every  fpecies  of  affliciicn 
that  Solitude  will  afFonl  relief.  O!  my  beloved 
Hirclifi  id  !  I  can  n^ver  refrrain  my  tears  from  flow- 
ing with  increafed  abundanc?,  v.'heiirver  I  read,  iii 
thy  immortal  work  up.:n  the  pleafures  cf  a  country- 
life,  the  following  aiTe cling  p,'\ilage,  which  always 
finks  deeply  into  my  heart  :  '"  The  tears  of  afflic- 
tion dry  up  under  tiie  fj/mpathizing  breath  cf  zeph- 
yrs :  the  heart  expands,  and  only  f^els  a  tranquil 
ibrrow.  Tne  bloom  cf  nature  prelcnts  itfelf  to  our 
eyes  on  every  fide  ;  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  its 
fragrance  we  feel  relief  from  woe.  Every  fad  and 
forrowful  idea  gradually  difappears.  1  he  mind  no 
longer  rejeds  ccnfohtcry  meditations  ;  and  as  the 
evening  fun  abforbs  the  damp  vapors  of  a  rainy 
day,  an  happy  trar  quiUity  diflfipates  the  troubles  of 
the  foul,  and  difpofes  us  to  enjoy  the  peaceful  charms 
of  rural  life.'* 

There  are,  ho'^/ever,  bofoms  fo  alive  to  misfor- 
tune, that  the  continual  remembrance  of  thofe  who 


hesirt  feparates  from  a  beloved  friend  whom  we  have  no  expe^atioa' 
ever  to  lee  again  ! 

*  This  refleition  of  Petrarch  is  very  afFeiVing  and  jufl— lllos 
annos  eg;  tanta  in  requie,  tantaque  dulcedine,  ut  iUud  feinao  tempus  fo- 
lum  .Kiihi  vita  fucrit,  ieliquum  omae  fuppliciunic" 


iSo-  The  Influence  of  Solitude  * 

were  once  dear  to  their  hearts,  •  preys  upon  thefr 
x^itals,  and  by  flow  degrees  conliimes  their  Uves. 
The  reading  of  a  fingle  Ime  writt  u  by  the  hand 
they  ioved,  freezes  their  blood  :  the  very  fight  cf 
the  tomb  which  has  fwallowed  up  the  remains  cf  all 
their  foul  held  dear,  is  intolerable  to  their  eyes.  On 
fuch  beings,  alns  ?  the  Heavens  fmile  in  vain.  The 
early  violet  and  the  twittering  birds  proclaiming, 
with  the  approach  of  fpring,  the  regeneration  of  all 
nature,  brings  no  charms  to  them.  The  garden's 
variegated  :  vies  irritate  their  feeiin^^s,  and  they  be- 
hold Ih  jfe  retreats,  to  w'  ich  t:  ey  ^vere  kindly  invi- 
ted to  looth  ;:he  violence  of  their  diftrefs,  with  hor> 
ror  during  the  rc-rn^iiider  of  their  lives.  They  re- 
fuC-  to  folio  xv  the  coTnpafiionnte  hand  extended  to 
lead  thsni  fro  in  their  h  .-^ule  of  forrow  to  the  verdant 
plains  cf  happinefs  and  peace.  Such  characters  gen- 
erally pofiels  Wcirin  and  ftrong  paffions ;  but  ih^ 
fmenefe  cf  thrir  fcenn&:s  becomes  a  real  malady ;  and 
they  require  to  be  tre'ited  with  great  attention  and 
with  co-n^^ant  kind^iTs. 

On  ti!e  contrary,  Solitude  conveys  mcft  pow- 
erful c  ?rms  to  fofter  minds,  although  the  iofsthey 
kave  experienced  may  nor  ha\  e  been  lefs.  They 
if'  ]  their  misfortunes  in  liieir  full  extent ;  but  thvir 
iedingr,  partake  of  the  tranqnilli'y  cf  their  nature  : 
xhtv  phnii  upon  the  fatal  tomb  the  weeping  willow 
Jind  the  ephemeral  rofe,  as  flriking  emblems  of  ihcir 
furrow  ami  misfortune ;  they  erecl  maufcleums, 
aiid  compofe  feineral  dirges  ;  their  hearts  are  con- 
tinuaiiy  occupied  by  the  idea  of  thofe  whom  their 
eyes  deplore,  and  they  exift,  under  the  fenfatioDs 
cif  the  trueft  and  moll  fmcere  forrow,  in  a  kind  of 
middle  ftate  between  earth  and  heaven.  Such  cha- 
racters, 1  am  confcious,  feel  misfortunes  to  their  full 
extent ;  but  their  forrows,  provided  they  are  un- 
difturbed,  appear  to  me  of  the  happieft  kind.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  fay  their  forrows  are  infmcere,  or 
that  their  grief  is  lefs  than  that  of  thof^  who  gi\^ 


The  Influence  of  SoUhide*  2^  1 

themfelves  up  to  fits  of  violence,  and  fmk  under  the 
prefiure  of  i heir  misfortunes  ;  this  would  bs  a  fpecies 
of  ftupidity ;  an  enormity,  of  the  confequences  of 
which  I  am  fully  fenfible  :  but  I  ^  call  them  happy 
mourners,  becaufe  their  conftitutions  are  fo  framed, 
that  their  grief  and  (brrow  do  not  diminifh  the  force 
and  energy  of  their  minds.  They  find  enjoyments 
in  thofe  things  from  which  minds  of  a  different  tex- 
ture would  feel  averfion.  They  feel  celeftial  joys 
in  the  unceafing  reccllecSlion  of  thofe  perfjns  v/hcfe- 
lois  they  deplore. 

Every  advernty  of  life  is  much  more  eafily  over- 
come in  Solitude  than  in  the  world,  provided  the 
foul  will  ncbly  bend  its  flight  towards  a  different 
objeft.  When  a  man  thinks  that  he  has  norefour- 
ces  but  in  d£fpi:iir  or  death,  he  deceives  himfelf ;  for 
defpair  is  no  refource.  Let  him  retire  to  his  fludy, 
and  there  ferioufly  trace  cut  the  confequences  of 
fome  fettled  truth,  and  his  tears  will  no  longer  fall, 
the  weight  of  his  misfortunes  will  grow  light,  and 
the  pangs  of  forrow  fly  from  his  breafl:. 

In  Solitude  the  mofl:  trifling  emotions  of  the 
heart,  every  appearance  of  domeflic  felicity  or  rural 
pleafu  re,  drives  away  impatience  and  ill  humor.  Ill 
humor  is  an  uneafy  and  infupportable  condition, 
which  theXoui  frequently  falls  into  when  foured  by 
a  number  of  thofe  petty  vexations  which  we  daily 
experience  in  every  flep  of  our  progrefs  through  life  ; 
but  we  need  only  to  fhut  the  door  in  order  toavoic! 
this  fcourge  of  happinefs.  Im.patience  is  a  ftifled 
anger,  v/hich  men  filently  manifefl  by  looks  and  gef- 
tares,  and  weak  minds  ordinarily  reveal  by  a  fhow» 
er  of  complaints.  A  grumbler  is  never  farther  from 
his  proper  fphere  than  when  he  is  in  company ;  Sol- 
itude is  his  only  afylum. 

Vexations,  however,  of  almofl  every  kind,  are 
much  fooner  healed  in  the  tranquillity  of  retirement 
than  in  the  noife  of  the  world.   V/hen  we  have  at- 
tained a  cheerful  difpofiticn,  and  do  not  fuffer  any 
(XXiVi) 


^Z  i  The  Influence  of  Solitude* 

thing  to  thwart,  reftrain  or  four  the  temper  of  our 
minds  ;  when  we  have  learned  the  art  of  vanquifh- 
ing  ourfelves,  no  worldly  vexations  can  obliruft  our 
happinefs.  The  deepert  melancholy  and  moft  fet- 
tled wearinefs  of  hfe  have  by  thefe  means  been  fre- 
quently banifhed  from  the  breaft.  The  progrefs  to 
this  end  is,  in  truth,  much  more  rapid  in  women 
than  in  men.  The  mind  of  a  Uvely  female  flies  im- 
mediately to  happinefs,  while  that  of  a  melancholy 
man  ftill  creeps  on  with  pain-  The  foft  bofoms  of 
the  fair  are  eafily  elevated  or  deprefled ;  but  thefe 
effects  muft  be  produced  by  means  lefs  abftradled 
than  Solitude  ;  by  fometliing  that  will  ftrike  their 
ienfes,  and  by  their  afliftance  penetrate  to  the  heart* 
On  the  contrary,  the  mental  difeafes  of  men  aug- 
liient  by  ilow  degrees,  take  deeper  root,  lay  ftrong^ 
er  hold  cf  the  breaft,  and  to  drive  them  away  it  is 
neceffary  to  apply  the  moft  efficacious  remedies  with 
unfhaken  confiancy  ;  for  here  feeble  prefcriptions 
are  of  no  avail.  The  only  chance  of  fuccels  is  by 
exerting  ever>^  endeavor  to  place  the  body  under 
the  regimen  of  the  mind.  Vigorous  minds  frequent- 
ly baniih  tb.e  moft  inveterate  evils,  or  form  a  pow- 
erful fhield  againft  all  the  darts  of  fate,  and  by  bra^ 
ving  every  danger,  drive  away  thofe  feelings  by 
which  others  are  irritated  and  deftroyed.  They  bold- 
ly turn  their  eyes  from  what  things  are,  to  what 
ihey  ought  to  be  ;  and  with  deter^rined  refolution 
liipport  th<^  bodies  they  are  dtfigred  to  animate, 
wnilc.  weaker  minds  furrender  every  thing  commit- 
ted to  ti.eir  care. 

The  foul,  however,  always  yields  to  thofe  cir- 
€u*nfta 'Ces  which  are  m  ft  dgreeable  to  its  peculiar 
char  .cler.  '/iie  gam'ng-rable,  luxurious  feafts  and 
briUv:::t  allemblies,  are  themcft  pjJatable  aliments, 
the  moft  pleaijng  comforts  to  the  generality  of  men ; 
wiiile  the  bofojriS  of  thofe  who  figh  for  Sditudej 
from  a  Cunrcioufn^fs  of  all  the  advantages  it  affords. 


77;<?  Inp.cncc  of  Bclltude,  285 

feel  no  tranquillity  or  enjoyment  but  hi  its  peaceful 
fhades. 

Thefe  refieclions  upon  the  advantages  which 
the  heart  derives  from  Solimde  bring  me,  at  laft,  to 
this  import.mt  queftion  : — Whether  it  is  eafier  to 
Hve  virtuouily  in  Solitude  or  in  the  World  I 

In  fociety,  the  virtues  are  frequently  pracftifed 
.from  a  mere  fenfe  of  duty.  The  Clergy  feel  it  their 
duty  to  afford  inftrucVioQ  to  ti^e  ignorant,  and  con^ 
folation  to  the  ufBi^led.  The  Judges  tliink  it  their 
duty  to  render  juiiice  to  the  injured  or  oppreffed. 
The  Phylician  pays  his  vihts  to^the  Tick,  and  cures 
t'-em,  ill  or  well ;  and  all  for  the  fake  of  humanity, 
lay  thefe  gentlemen.  But  all  this  is  falfe  ;  the  cler- 
gy afford  confolaticD,  the  lawyer  renders  juftice, 
the  phyfici?.n  cures,  net  always  from  the  decided 
inclination  of  thie  heart,  but  becaufe  he  muft,  be- 
caufe  his  duty  requires  it,  becaufe  the  one  niuft  do 
honor  to  his  gow.,  the  other  is  pl.iced  in  the  feat  cF 
juflire,  and  the  third  has  pledged  his  Ikill  on  fuch 
and fuch  pr^gncfiics.  'ihe  words,  "your  known 
hum.anitv,''  which  always  fnock  my  feehiigs,  and  are 
inlroduCDry  to  the  contents  of  a  thoufcuid  letters  I 
have  received,  are  nothing  m  re  than  the  ftyle  of 
cuft  :)m,  a  common  flattery  and  f.Ufehood.  Human- 
ity is  a  virtu3,  a  n-  bi  rnefs  of  foul  of  the  higheti: 
r.ink  ;  and  hew  can  ar,y  one  knov/  whiether  I  do 
fu  :h  and  fuch  things  fr  3m  the  love  of  virtue,  or  be- 
caufe I  am  bound  by  duty  to  perform  them  I 

Good  works,  t.:crefore,  are  not  always  ?.<fis  of 
virtue.  The  ficart  of  that  man  who  never  detaches 
hirafelf  fr-^ni  the  affair?  of  the  world,  is  fr-rquently 
Ihut  ^gainit  every  thirg  that  is  good.  It  is  p.ffible 
to  do  go  ^d,  w-md  net  be  virtuou^s :  for  a  man  may 
be  great  in  ris  anions  ^r^a  iirtle  in  his  heart.*  Vir- 
tue  is  a  quaUty  much  more  rare  than  is  geierally  im- 

.  .  *  y^^*  poteftatibu-  fub!imr,  (l^ys  Lord  Chancellor  Bacr-n)  ipfi 
tibi  Ignoti  lunt.  Ec  d-.m  nepor.:>  .^litrahuntur,  tempore  caicnc,  ^uo 
taniuti  aat  corporis  auc  anioiie  icas  confuiaar." 


2.84  ^^"^  LrpMcnce  of  SoIiiuJ^. 

agined.  It  is  therefore  neceffary  to  be  frugal  of  the 
words  humanity^  virtue^  patriotifin^  and  Others  cf  the 
fkme  import ;  they  ought  only  to  be  mentioned  up- 
on great  occ?.rions  ;  for  by  too  frequent  ufe  their 
meaning  is  weakened,  and  the  quaUties  they  defcribe 
biought  into  contempt.  Who  would  not  blufh  to 
be  called  learned^  or  humane^  when  he  hears  the 
knowledge  of  fo  many  ignorast  perfons  boalted  of,, 
and  the  -well- known  humanity"  of  fo  many  villains 
praiFed  ? 

The  probability  is,  that  men  will  do  more  good 
in  the  retreats  of  Solitude  than  in  the  world.  In 
fa6l,  a  virtuous  man,  of  whatever  defcnption  he  may 
be,  is  not  virtuous  in  confequence  of  example,  for 
virtuous  examples  are  unhappily  too  rarely  feen  in 
the  world,  but  becaufe  in  the  filence  of  refledlion  he 
feels  that  the  pleafures  of  a  good  heart  furpals  eve- 
ry other,  and  conftitute  the  true  happineis  of  iife.^ 
The  greater  part,  therefore,  of  virtuous  actions  are 
txercifed  in  filence  and  obfcurity. 

Virtuous  adlons  are  more  eafily  and  more  free- 
ly performed  in  Solitude  than  in  the  world.  In 
SdiiU'.'e  no  man  blufhes  at  the  fight  of  virtue,  but 
in  the  v/orld  fhe  drags  on  an  obfcure  exirtenoe,  and 
ieeras  afraid  to  fhew  her  face  in  pubhc.  The  inter- 
eourfe  of  ihe  world  is  the  education  of  vice.  Men 
poffeiTed  of  ths  belt  inclinations  .are  furrounded  by 
lo  many  fnares  and  dangers,  that  they  will  all  com- 
mit fome  fault  every  day  of  their  lives.  One  man 
who  plays  a  firfl  rate  charadcr  upon  the  theatre  of 
the  world,  is  deficient  in  virtuous  inclinations  ;  ia 
aaotker  of  the  fame  clafs,  his  inclinations  are  good 
while  h's  actions  are  vicious.  In  the  chamber,  be- 
fore we  engage  ir.  the  complicated  bufinefs  of  the 
•day,  we  are,  perhaps,  kind,  impartial,  and  candid, 
for  then  t'^e  current  of  our  tempers  lias  received  no 
contrp.dicrion ;  but  with  ihe  greateii  attention,  with 
the  moil  fcrupuloiis  vigilance,  it  is  impoiiible  to  con- 
tinue through  the  day  ccinpleteiy  mafters  of  our* 


The  Infiuemc  $f  Sohtme* 

iCive^,  opprelTed,  as  we  are,  with  cares  and  vexa- 
tions, obliged  to  confcrm  to  a  leries  of  dirgiifling 
circumftaoces,  to  give  audience  to  a  multitude  of 
men,  and  to  endure  a  thoufard  abfurd  and  unex- 
peflfd  accidents  which  diftr^cft  the  mind.  The  fel- 
ly, therefore,  of  myitic  minds,  v/as,  in  forgetting 
that  their  fouls  were  fubjeded  to  a  body,  and  aim- 
ing, in  confequence  of  that  error,  at  the  higheft 
pome  of  fpecul?-tive  ^'rtue.  The  nature  of  humsn 
beings  cannjt  be  altered  -r.erely  by  living  in  a  her- 
mitage. The  exercife  of  virtue  is  only  eafy  ie  ihofe 
lituations  where  it  is  not  expcfed  to  danger,  and 
then  it  lofcs  its  m.erir.  God  created  many  her- 
mits too  weak  to  five  themfelves  when  plungecl  into 
the  abyfs,  b-xaufe  he  rendered  them  f:rong  en: ugh 
not  to  fail  into  it. 

I  fhall  here  fubjoia  an  excellent  obfervaticn  of 
a  celebrated  S:otch  Phil  jfopher— "  it  is  the  p:cu- 
iiar  effe£l  of  virtoe  to  mr.ke  a  man's  chief  happinefs 
arife  from  himfelf  a  ^d  his  own  condu6l.  A  bad 
man  is  wholly  the  creature  i  f  the  world.  He  hangs 
upon  its  f  iver,  lives  by  its  f  niles,  and  is  happy  or 
miferabie  in  proportion  to  his  f'uccefs.  But  to  a 
virtu:,us  man,  fuccefs  in  worldly  undertakings  is 
but  a  feconcary  objecl.  T  o  difcharg^  his  own  part 
v^ith  integrity  and  honor,  is  h's  chief  aim.  If  he  has 
done  properly  v.  hat  was  incumbent  on  hirxi  to  do, 
his  mxiud  is  at  refi: ;  to  PfovideKce  he  leaves  the 
event.  His  witnr/s  is  in  Heaven^  and  his  record  is  on 
high.  Satisfied  with  the  approbation  of  God,  and 
tae  tcftunony  of  a  good  confcience,  he  enjoys  him- 
felf, and  defpifes  the  triumphs  of  guilt.  In  propor- 
tion as  fuch  manly  principles  rule  your  heart,  vou 
will  becoire  independent  of  the  world,  and  will  for- 
bear complaining  of  its  difccuragements." 

To  recommend  this  independence  cf  the  world 
is  the  firft  aim  and  only  end  of  the  Uttle  philofophy 
which  may  be  found  in  tl  is  Treatife  upon  SoUtude. 
It  is  not  my  d;(5trias  to  lead  mea  intg  the  defarts. 


28^  7m  Influence  of  ^oiitude. 

or  to  place  their  refdence,  like  thit  of  owls,  in  the 
hollow  trunks  of  trees ;  but  I  would  willingly  re- 
ir^ove  from  their  miixls  the  excefiive  fear  of  men 
and  of  the  world.  I  would,  as  far  it  is  practica- 
ble, render  them  indepej-.dent ;  I  v^^ould  break  their 
fetters,  infpire  them  with  a  contempt  of  public  fo- 
ciety,  and  devote  their  minds  to  the  love  of  Scii- 
tude,  in  order  that  tiiey  may  be  able  to  fay,  at 
leaf!:  during  the  courfe  of  two  hours  in  a  day,  "  We 
are  free, 

Such  a  ft-ita  of  independence  cannot  be  dif- 
pleafmg  even  to  the  greatelt  enemies  of  liberty  ; 
for  it  fmiply  carries  the  mind  to  a  rational  ufe  of 
Solitude,  it  is  by  the  recnllecdcn  of  the  foul,  by 
the  mind's  flrengihtning  itfelf  in  thefs  pure  aiid  no- 
ble frntinents,  t-^-u  we  are  rendered  more  able  and 
more  anxious  to  fill  our  r^fpeCt've  ftations  in  life 
with  propriety. 

The  true  apofihs  of  Solitude  have  fiid,  "  It  is 
only  by  employing  with  pre  priety  the  hcurs  of  an 
happy  leifure,  that  we  adopt  fmn  and  folid  refohi* 
tions  to  govern  cur  mind  and  guide  our  atti.  ns.  It 
is  there,  only,  that  we  can  quietly  reflscl  upon  the 
tranfadlions  of  life,  upon  the  temptations  to  which 
we  are  moft  expofed,  upon  thofe  weaker  fides  of 
the  heart  which  we  ought  to  guard  with  the  moft 
unceafmg  care,  and  previoufly  arm  ourfelves  ag?.infl 
v/hatever  is  dangerous  in  our  commerce  with  nian- 
kind.  Perhaps  though  virtue  may  appear,  at  firit 
fight,  to  contra6l  the  bounds  of  enjoyment,  ycu  will 
find  upon  refleclion,  that  in  truth  it  enlarges  them ; 
if  it  rellrains  the  excefs  of  fome  pleafures,  it  favors 
and  iocreafes  others  ;  it  precludes  you  from  none 
but  fuch  as  ?re  either  fantaftic  and  imaginary,  or 
pernicious  and  deiiructive." — "  The  rich  proprieta- 
ry loves  to  amufe  himfelf  in  a  contemplation  of  his 
wealth,  the  voluptuary  in  his  entertainments,  the 
man  of  the  world  with  his  friends  and  his  affemblies  ^ 
but  the  truJy  good  man  finds  his  pleafure  in  the 


The  hfiuemecf  Mltudel  287 

fcrupubus  difcharge  of  the  augiift  duties  of  life. 
He  fees  a  new  fun  (l^ining  before  him  ;  thinks  him- 
felf  furrounded  by  a  more  pure  and  lively  fplendor  ; 
every  obje<^l  is  emheilifhed,  and  he  gaily  purines 
.  his  career.  He  who  penetrates  into  the  fecret  cau- 
fes  of  thi :'gs,  who  reads  in  the  refpeftabl?  obfcurity 
of  a  wife  Solitude,  will  return  us  public  thanks. 
We  immediately  acquit  curfelves  more  perfedly  in 
bufinefs,  we  rtfiif  with  greater  eafe  the  temptations 
of  vice,  and  we  ewe  all  thefe  edvantcges  to  the  pi- 
ous recalle£licn  which  Solitude  inlpires,  to  our  fep- 
aration  from,  mankind,  and  to  cur  independence  of 
the  world." 

Liberty,  leifure,  a  quiet  confcience,  and  a  re- 
tirement from  the  world,  are  therefore  the  furelt 
an:"^.  mofc  iafaliible  means  to  arrive  at  virtue.  Un- 
der fach  circumftances.  it  is  not  neceflary  to  refiraia 
the  paflions  merely  to  prevent  them  from  difturb- 
ing  the  public  order,  or  to  abate  the  fervor  of  ima- 
gia.-ition  ;  for  in  cur  review  of  things  we  willingly 
le^ve  them  as  they  are,  becaufe  we  have  learned  to 
hugn  at  their  abfurdity.  Domeftic  life  is  no  long- 
er, as  in  the  gay  world,  a  fcece  of  languor  and  dit 
Rull,  the  field  ot  battle  to  every  bafe  and  brutal  paf- 
fun,  the  dwelling  of  envy,  vexation  and  ill  humor. 
Peace  and  happinefs  inhabit  thofe  bofoms  that  re- 
nounce the  p:;iibncus  fprings  of  pleafure  ;  and  the 
•mind  is  thereby  rendered  capable  of  communicating 
its  pureft  j^ws  to  all  around.  He  v/no  fhuns  the 
contaminated  circles  of  the  vicious,  who  flies  from 
the  inf'^lent  lo'  ks  of  proud  flupidity  and  the  arro- 
gance of  fuccefsful  villainy ;  who  beholds  the  void 
which  all  the  idle  entertainments  and  vain  preten- 
fions  of  public  lif-^  leave  within  the  breaft,  is  never 
difcontented  or  d3.R:urbed  at  home. 

The  pleafures  of  the  world  lofe  their  charms 
on  every  facrifice  ma-f  e  in  Solitude  at  the  pltar  of 
Virtue.  "I  1  ve  rather  to  Ihed  tears  myielf  ihaa 
to  make  others  fned  them,"  faid  a  Germaii  lady  to 


aSS  The  Irtfluence  of  Solitude. 

me  one  day.  She  did  not  feem  coiifcious  that  it  is 
almofl  impc  iTiblc  either  to  fay  or  do  any  thing  mere 
generous.  Vn-tue  hkc  this  affords  more  real  con- 
tent to  the  heart  than  all  the  amufements  which  are 
hourly  ibught  to  dcftroy  time,  and  Real  the  bofom 
trom  itfclf.  The  miad  is  always  happy  in  finding 
itfelf  capable  of  exercifmg  faculties  which  it  was 
not  before  confcious  it  poffefied.  Solitude  opens 
the  foul  to  ev^ry  noble  pleafure;  fills  it  with  ictel- 
iigence,  ferenity,  calmnefs,  and  content,  when  we 
expected  nothing  but  tears  of  forrow ;  and  repairs 
every  misfortune  by  a  thoufand  new  and  unuttera- 
ble delights. 

There  is  not  a  villain  in  exiftence  whofe  mind 
does  not  ftlently  acknowledge  that  Virtue  is  the  cor- 
ner flone  of  all  felicity  in  the  world,  as  well  as  in 
Solitude.  Vice,  however,  is  continually  fpreading 
her  filken  nets,  enfnaring  multitudes  of  every  rank 
and  every  ftation.  To  watch  all  the  feduftive  in- 
clinations of  the  heart,  not  only  when  they  are  pre- 
fent,  but  while  they  yet  lie  dormant  in  tr  e  breafl, 
to  vanquifh  every  defire  by  employing  the  mind  in 
the  purfuit  of  noble  pleafures,  has  ever  been  confid- 
ered  the  greatefl  conqueft  which  the  foul  is  capable 
of  gaining  over  the  world  and  itfelf ;  and  inward 
peace  has  ever  teen  the  fruit  of  this  viclory. 

Happy  is  the  man  v/ho  carries  with  him  into 
Solitude  the  inward  peace  of  mind,  and  there  pre- 
ferves  it  unaltered.  Of  wh-at  fervice  would  it  be  to 
leave  the  town,  and  feak  the  calmnefs  and  tranquil- 
lity of  retirement,  if  mifanthropy  ftill  lurks  within 
the  heart,  '^nd  we  there  continue  our  f  icrifices  to 
this  fatal  pailion  ?  Divine  content,  a  calm  and  open 
r.ounten?Tice,  will,  in  fuch  circumftances,  be  as  dif- 
ficult to  fin-l  in  the  flower- enamelled  meadov^s  as  in 
the  deepeft  night  of  Solitude,  or  in  the  filent  fhades 
of  obfcure  cells-  To  purify  and  protect  the  heart 
i-s  the  firfl  and  lafl  duty  which  we  have  to  perf  "irm 
ki  Solitude  :  this  ta&  once  accomplifhed  our  hap- 


the  Influence  of  Sdiiiide*  a59 

pmefs  is  feciu'e,  for  we  have  then  learned  the  value 
of  the  tranquillity,  the  leifure,  and  the  liberty  we 
enjoy.  Hatred  to  mankind  ought  not  to  be  the 
<:au^e  of  ourleiviiig  the  world ;  we  may  fhun  their 
lociety,  and  iiill  niiiutain  our  wiihes  for  their  feli- 
city. 

An  elieatlal  portion  of  the  happinefs  which  we 
tafle  in  SoUmde  arifes  from  our  ability  to  appreci- 
ate things  according  to  their  true  value,  independ- 
ently of  the  public  opinion.    When  Rome,  after 
tha  corqaeft  of  the  Pirates,  removed  LucuUus  from 
the  head  of  the  i^rmy,  in  order  to  give  the  command 
of  it  to  Pompey,  religning  by  this  a^t  the  govern- 
ment of  the  emp-.re  to  the  difcretion  of  a  fmgle  man, 
that  artful  citizen  beat  his  breaft,  as  a  fign  of  grief 
at  being  invefted  with  the  honor,  and  exclaimed, 
Alas !  is  there  no  end  to  my  conflicts  ?  How 
much  better  v/ould  it  have  been  to  have  remained 
one  of  {he  undiftinguifhed  Many,  than  to  be  perpet- 
iially  engaged  in  war,  and  have  my  body  continu- 
ally  locked  in  armor  !  Shall  1  never  be  able  to  fly 
from  envy  to  a  rural  retreat,  to  domeftic  happinef?, 
aad  conjugal  endearments  V — Pompey  Ipoke  his 
true  feiitiments  in  the  language  of  diffimulation  ; 
for  he  had  not  yet  learne  I  really  to  efteem  that 
which  all  men  poflelFed  of  native  ambition  and  tli3 
lu*i  of  pov/er,  defpife  ;  nor  did  he  yet  contemn  that 
which  at  this  period  of  the  republic  every  Roman 
who  was  eager  to  command  eifeemed  more  thin  al! 
other  things  ;  unlike  Manias  Curius,  the  greatelfc 
Roman  cf  nis  age,  who,  after  having  vanquifhed 
feverai  warlike  nations,  driven  Pyrrhus  out  of  Ita- 
ly, and  enjoyed  three  time  the  honors  of  a  Tri- 
umpii,"  retired  to  his  cottage  in  the  country,  and 
with  his  own  victorious  hands  cultivated  his  little 


*  Manius  Curius  Dentatus  triumphed  twice  in  his  firft  Confulate 
jn  the  463i  year  of  Rome  ;  fii  ft  over  the  Samr.keSf  and  afterwards  over 
tht  i)abinei  y  and  eight  years  afterwards,  in  his  third  Cenfulate,  he 
tilamphed  over  Pyrrhus.    After  thi^  he  led        the  leflfif  Tri 
Ovation,  fgr  bis  tiftory  over  the  Lucanigtu 


zgo  The  Influence  of  Solitude, 

farm.  To  this  fpot  the  AmbalTadors  of  the  Samnites 
came  to  ofer  him  a  large  prtfentof  gold,  and  found 
him  feated  in  the  chimney  corner  drefling  turnipvS.** 

No  king  cr  prince  was  ever  fo  happy  as  was 
Manius  Curius  in  the  humble  employment  of  dref- 
fmg  his  turnips-  Princes  know  too  well  that  under 
many  circumtlances  they  are  deprived  of  friends ; 
and  this  is  the  reaibn  why  they  afk  the  advice  of 
many,  but  confide  in  none.  I'he  hontft  Cuhje^s 
of  a  nation,  every  man  of  reflection  and  good  lenfe, 
pities  the  condition  of  virtuous  Sovereigns  ;  for  ev- 
en the  beft  of  Sovereigns  are  not  al.ogerher  exempt 
from  fears,  jealoufies  and  torments.  Their  felicity 
cever  equals  that  of  a  laborious  and  contented  huf- 
bandman  :  their  pleafures  are  not  i'o  permanent ; 
they  never  experience  the  fame  tran-qaillity  and  con- 
tent. The  provifions  of  a  peafant  are  coarfe,  but 
to  his  appetite  they  are  delicious  :  his  bed  is  hard, 
but  he  goes  to  it  fatigued  by  the  honelt  labors  of 
the  day,  and  ileeps  founder  on  his  mat  of  firav/ 
Ithan  monarchs  on  their  beds  of  down. 

The  pleafures  of  Solitude  are  enjoyed  by  eve- 
yy  defcription  of  men,  without  exception  of  rank  or 
fortune.  The  frefhnefs  of  the  breeze,  the  mngfiifi* 
cence  of  the  forefts,  the  rich  tints  of  the  meadows, 
the  inexhauftible  variet^,  wh'ch  fummer  fpre  ids  ovtr 
the  face  of  all  nature,  enchant  n(^t  only  philoibphers, 
lyings  and  heroes,  but  th^  beautiful  pi'<fture  raviflit^ 
the  mind  of  the  mofl  ignorant  fpe6laLor  with  exqui- 
fite  delight.  An  Engliih  author  has  very  juflly  oh- 
ferved,  "  It  is  not  neceflary  that  he  who' look<?wir.h 
pleafure  on  the  colours  of  a  flower  Ihould  If  udy  the 
principles  of  vegetation,  or  that  the  Ptolemaic  and 
Copernican  fyftem  fhould  be  compared,  before  the 
light  of  the  fun  can  gladden,  or  its  warmth  invigo- 


*  DcQtatus  abfolutely  refufed  the  prefent,  and  ga.ve  the  AnmbafTa- 
oors  this  aniwer:  **  A  man  who  can  be  fatisfied  with  (r.ch  a  fupper 
has  no  need  of  gold;  aad  I  think  it  more  glorious  to  conquer  K\\t  ovnc;5. 
Oi/  it  thsa    pofTefs  It  myfcif." 


The  Influence  of  Solitude.  i(^t 

ra<  e.  Novelty  is  itfelf  a  fource  of  gratification  ;  and 
Milton  juftly  obferves,  that  to  him  who  has  beea 
long  pant  up  io  cities,  no  rural  object  can  be  pre- 
fenied  that  will  not  delight  or  refrtlh  ibme  of  his 

Exiles  themfelves  have  frequently  felt  the  ad- 
vantai;es  and  enjoyments  of  Solitude.  To  fupply 
t^c  place  of  the  world  from  which  they  are  banifli- 
ed,  they  create  in  retirement  a  new  world  for  them- 
felves ;  forget  thofe  faditious  pleafures  cxclufively 
attached  to  the  condition  of  the  great,  habituate 
themielves  to  others  of  a  nobler  kind,  more  worthy 
the  attention  of  a  rational  being  and  to  pafs  their 
days  i!i  tranquillity  fmd  out  a  thoufaad  little  fell- 
L  iies,  which  are  only  to  be  met  with  at  a  diflance 
from  all  fociety,  far  removed  from  all  coofcla- 
lion,  tar  from  their  country,  their  family  and  their 
friends. 

But  to  procure  happinefs,  Exiles,  like  other 
me3,  ir>uft  fix  their  minds  upon  Ibme  obk*A  \  ihf*f- 
Vixxii  adopt  fome  paj'ticular  puri'ult  capable  of  crea- 
tr 'g  future  hopes  cr  of  affording  immediate  piea- 
iore.  £xil'.s,  alas !  afpire  to  the  attainment  of  hap- 
pinefe.  and  would  ftill  live  for  the  fake  of  virtue. 

Maurice,  Prince  of  Ifnebourg,  diflinguifhecl 
rimfelf  by  his  CQiirage  during  a  Jervice  of  twenty 
years,  under  Ferdinand  Duke  of  Brunfwick,  and 
Marfhal  Broglio,  in  the  wa,rs  between  the  Ruffians 
and  the  1  urks.  Health  and  repofe  were  facrificed 
to  the  gratification  of  his  ainbition  and  love  of  glo- 
ry. During  his  fervice  in  the  Ruffian  army  he  fell 
under  the  difpleafure  of  the  Emprels,  and  was  fent 
into  exib.  I'he  nature  of  exile  in  Ruffia  is  well 
known  ;.  but  he  contrived  to  render  even  a  Ruffian 
baniihmeni  agreeable.  At  firll,  his  mind  and  his 
body  were  cpprefied  by  the  forrows  and  dii'quiet- 

*  CiVfrs  fays,  lA\i\\.-i  ^xxz\&xi  Dhnyfius  Phalersuz  in  jlJoTetillo 
fcripfil,  non  in  ufum  aliquem  fuum,  quo  crat  orbatusj  led  aijimi-C'jl- 
las  ille,  eratei  quafi  qui<i*m  humanitaties  cibus,'* 


2^2  7U  Influence  cf  SoBuJe^ 

iides  of  his  fituation ;  and  his  life  became  a  mere 
ihadow.  The  little  work  written  by  Lord  Bclirg- 
brok«  upon  exile  fell  accidentally  into  his  hands* 
He  read  it  feveral  times ;  and  "  in  proportion  to 
the  number  of  times  1  read/'  (liid  the  Prince,  in  the 
preface  of  the  elegant  and  nervous  tranHation  which 
ke  made  of  this  work,  "  1  felt  all  my  foirows  and 
difqmetudes  vanifh/* 

This  treatife  of  Lcrd  Bclingbrcke  upon  the 
iubje^l  of  exile,  is  a  mader-piece  of  ftoic  philofophy 
iind  fine  writing.  He  there  boldly  examires  thead- 
yerfities  of  his  paft  and  prefer t  life.  Inftead  of  fly^ 
Ing  from  them,  or  enduring  them  with  lingc  ring  end 
fhamefiii  patience,  he  endeavors  to  conquer  them- 
Inftead  of  palliatives,  he  advifes  the  knife  and  the 
caufbic  ;  he  probes  the  wound  to  the  bottom  to  cb- 
tain  a  radical  cure. 

The  mind,  without  doubt,  frrengthecs  its  pow- 
ers under  the  circumliances  of  perpetual  banifh- 
snent  in  the  fame  manner  as  an  uninierrupted  Soli- 
tude ;  and  habit  fapplies  the  neceilary  power  to 
fupport  its  misfortune.  To  exiles  v/ho  rre  inclined 
to  indulge  all  the  pleafing  emotions  of  the  hearts 
Solitude,  indeed,  becomes  an  eafy  fituaiion ;  for 
they  there  experience  pleafures  which  were  I efcre 
unknown  ;  and  from  that  moment  forget  ihofe 
which  they  tafled  in  the  happier  iituation  of  life* 
When  Brutus  faw  Marcellus  in  exile  at  My  telene, 
he  found  him  furrcunded  by  the  higheft  felicity  of 
which  human  nature  is  fufceptible,  ar.d  devoted, 
as  before  his  baniflmient,  to  the  uudy  of  every 
lifeful  fcience*  The  fight  made  fo  deep  an  impref- 
lion  on  his  mind,  that  when  he  was  again  return- 
ing into  the  world,  he  felt  that  it  was  Brutus  wi;o. 
was  going  into  exile,  and  not  Marcellus  whom  he 
left  behind. 

Some  years  before,  Quintus  Metellus  Numid- 
knsfuffered  the  fame  fate.  -At  the  time  when  the 
people,  condufled  by  Marius,  laid  the  fouudatica 


The  Influence  cf  Sslkude* 

of  mat  tyranny  whick  Ca^far  afterwards  ere^Ved, 
MereHiis  fingly,  in  the  midftof  aii  aliirmed  Senate, 
ai^d  furrouuded  by  an  enraged  populace,  refufed  to 
take  the  oath  impofed  by  the  pernicious  hiv/s  of  the 
Tribune  Saturninus.  His  in: moveable  firmnefs  was 
confidered  as  a  crime,  and  exile  was  its  punifhment. 
A  mad  and  furious  parry  gained  the  afcendancy. 
The  molt  virtuous  of  the  citizens,  indeed,  took  up 
arms  in  his  defence^  refoluteiy  determined  toperilh 
rather  than  hve  to  fee  their  country  deprived  of  fo 
much  virtue  ;  but  this  generous  Roman,  who  had 
refilled  all  the  exhortations  of  his  friends  not  to  ex- 
pjie  h'.mfclf  to  the  dreadful  penalties  of  his  refufal, 
thought  it  a  duty  which  he  owed  to  the  laws  not  to 
fulTcr  any  fedition  to  take  place ;  he  contented  him- 
felf  v/ith  lamenting  that  frenzy  which  had  leized  the 
public  mind,  as  Plato  had  before  lamented  the  mad-- 
nels  cf  the  Ati.enians  : — "  Either  matters,"  faid 
he,  "  will  take  a  better  turn,  and  the  people  re- 
pent and  recall  me,  or,  if  they  continue  the  fame,  it 
will  l^e  befl:  to  be  at  a  diflance  from  Rome."  With- 
out regret  therefore  he  refigned  himfelf  to  banifh-- 
ment,  fully  convinced  of  its  advantages  to  a  heart 
incapable  of  finding  repofe  except  c  p  foreign  fhores ; 
a  heart  which,  if  he  had  continued  at  Rome,  muft 
have  been  inceffantly  torn  to  pieces  by  the  fight  of 
a  miferable  Senate  and  an  expiring  Republic. 

Rutillius  alfo  withdrew  himfelf  from  the  cor- 
nipted  city  of  Rome  with  equal  contempt  for  the 
fentiments  and  the  manners  of  the  age.  He  had 
defended  Afia  againft  the  exertions  of  the  ColleiStors. 
This  generolity  irritated  the  Equeftrian  Order,  and 
motives  equally  bafe  exafpsrated  Marius^s  party 
againft  him.  'fhe  mofl  virtuous  and  innocent  citi- 
zen cf  the  republic  was  accufed  of  corruption,  acd 
dragged  to  the  bar  of  juftice  by  the  vile  and  infa- 
mous Apicius.  The  authors  of  this  unfounded  pro- 
fecution  fat  in  judgment  on  Rutilius,  who  was  of 
courfe  molt  unjufily  condemned,  for  hefcarcely  con- 

(>:£  V  2) 


ip4  T^k  it^ucncs  of  Solitude.  ' 

defcended  to  defend  the  caufe.  Seeking  an  afylnnt 
in  Afia,  this  venerable  Roman,  whofe  ungrateful: 
country  was  ignsfant  of  his  merit,  was  receired 
there  with  every  mark  of  affe<ftion  and  refped:.  Be- 
fore the  term  of  his  banifhment  expired,  he  fhewed 
ftill  greater  contempt  to  Rome  ;  for  when  Sylia: 
would  have  recalled  him,  he  not  oniy  refufed  to  re- 
turn, but  made  the  place  of  his  relidence  at  a  great* 
er  diilance. 

To  all  thefe  inftances  of  happy  and  contented 
ejiiles,  Cicero  is  a  memorable  exception.  He  pof. 
feffed  all  the  refources,  all  the  fentimenfs  neceffary 
to  draw  the  greatcft  advantages  from  Solitude ;  but 
he  had  not  lufEcieat  ftrecgth  gf  mii^d  to  fupport 
himfelf  under  the  adverfity  of  baniflimeut.  Cic(  rb, 
the  favior  of  his  country,  during  his  profperity  was 
neither  deterred  by  the  liienaces^  of  a  dangerous 
fadion,  nor  alarmed  at  the  poignard  of  the  afTaflin, 
but  his  coura'ge  failed  him  when  his  misfcrtuQcs 
commenced.  He  had  before  lame nted  the  weaknefs 
of  his  conititution,  but  after  exile  he  became  quite 
dejeiTted,  and  when  that  once  happen^  all  power  of 
mind  is  gene  ;  the  foul  immediately  Icies  all  its  en- 
ergies, and  bei**  mes  equally  iticapable  of  fuggefcirg 
vigorous  meafures,  or  of  performing  heroic  ■..fti on s. 
Cicero  and  his  melancholy  have  diihonored  botrt 
exile  and  Solitude.  Not  knowing  where  to  go,  or 
what  to  do,  as  timorous  as  a  female,  as  capricicus 
as  a  child,  he  regretted  the  fcfs  of  his  rank,  hJs 
riches,  and  his  power.  He  wept  over  the  ruins  of 
his  hcufe,  which  the  fury  of  Clcdius  had  levelled 
with  the  ground  ;^  and  poured  forth  groans  fcr  the 
abfence  of  Tereniia,  whom  he  foon  afterwards  repu- 
diated. Such  are  the  fatal  effects  of  a  melancholy 
mind  :  it  deplcres,  with  bitter  lamentation,  the  lots 
of  thofe  things  in  the  poffefTion  of  which  it  places  no 
value.  The  friends  and  enemies  of  Cicero  ui:! ted 
in  believing  that  misfortune  had  difcrdered  his  brain. 
Caifar  faw  with  fecret  fsitisfa^ti^n  the  man  who  had 


The  Influence  of  Solitude^  295-' 

refafcd  to  be  his  colleiigue  weep  under  the  fcourge 
of  Clodius.  Pompey  hoped  that  his  ingratitude 
would  be  efFaced  by  the  conteiKpt  to  which  thi 
friend  he  fo  carelefsly  abandoned  expoled  himfelf. 
Even  Atticus,  whcfe  higheR  gratilication  was  uinry 
and  mv.gniticence,  who  without  a  nnealing  himCelf 
to  any  party  was  intimate  with  v^ll,  blafhed  for  the^ 
anduft  of  Cicero,  thought  that  he  attached  himfelf 
too  fervilely  to  his  former  fortuvies,  and  reproach- 
ed him  with  the  feveri  y  of  a  Cato.  Solitude  l^lb 
all  its  influence  over  Cicero,  becaufe  weak  and  mel- 
ancholy fcntiments  condnually  dcprefled  his  mind, 
and  turned  the  worfi:  fide  of  every  cojtCi  to  hi^; 
view.  He  died,  however,  like  a  hero,  and  not  lik  5 
a  dejtftad  coward.  "Approach.,  old  foldler,"' cri- 
ed he  from  his  litter  to  Poinpiiius  Locnas,  his  client 
and  his  murderer,  "  and,  if  you  have  the  courage, 
take  my  hfe." 

A  man  under  the  adverfity  of  banifement  can- 
not hope  to  fee  his  days  glide  quietly  away  in  ru- 
ral delights  and  phibibphic  repofe,  exrept  he  has 
honorably  dilcharged  f^ofe  duties  which  he  owed  to 
the  world,  and  given  th?t  bright  example  to  future 
ages,  which  every  chara^t^r  exhibits  v/ho  is  as  great 
after  his  fall  as  5e  was  at  the  moft  brilliant  period 
of  his  profperity. 

Solitude  affords  an  unutterable  felicity  under 
the  preliure  of  old  age,  and  in  the  decHne  of  hfe. 
The  life  of  man  is  a  voyage  cf  fhort  duration,  and 
his  old  age  a  fleeting  day.  The  mind  is  enabled  by 
Solitude  to  forget  the  tempers  of  which  it  was  fo 
long  the  fport :  old  age,  therefore,  if  we  coLfider 
it  as  the  time  of  repofe,  as  an  interval  between 
the  affairs  df  this  world  and  the  higher  concerns 
cf  death,  an  harbor  from  whence  we  quietly  view 
rocks  on  which  we  were  in  danger  of  being  wreck- 
ed, is,  periiaps,  the  mofl  agreeable  period  cf  our 
lives. 

The  human  mind  is  in  general  '«in:dous  to  draw 


296 


The  Injlumce  of  Soliiude* 


its  knowledge  from  every  diflant  obje£^,  before  it 
applies  to  its  own  reiburces  :  we  therefore  frequent- 
ly begin  our  travels  in  other  nations,  before  we 
have  feen  whatever  is  intereiliog  in  cur  own.  But 
difcreet  youth  and  experienced  age  condu6l  them- 
ielves  upon  difterent  principles.  To  both  the  one 
and  the  other  Solitude  and  felf-examination  are  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  Wildom.  If  Solitude  de- 
preifes  the  fpirits  of  youth,^  and  renders  manhood 
melancholy,  it  frequently  drives  away  the  depreflioa 
which  accompanies  old  a^e. 

The  hillory  of  our  lirft  entrance  into  hfe  con- 
fifts  of  a  continual  fiicceffion  of  hopes,  wifhes  and 
illulions  :  the  fucce^dii^f];  years  are  an  age  of  vexa- 
tion and  forrow.  But  the  mind  of  a  man  who  has 
learnt  wifJom  from  experience  cannot  be  either 
fnaken  or  fui-prized.  He  who  is  no  longer  obliged 
to  labor  for  the  means  of  fupporting  life,  and  who 
has  bef.n  lo:  g  acquainted  v/ith  the  fecret  practices 
and  fiuiittr  dealings  of  the  world,  makes  no  com- 
plaints of  the  ingratitude  with  w^hich  his  labors  and 
anxiety  have  been  rewarded  :  all  he  afks  for  is  tran- 
quillity and  repofe  ;  and  if  he  has  made  any  advan- 
ces in  the  knowledge  of  liimfeif,  if  he  has  been  obU- 
ged  at  an  early  period  of  his  life  to  become  wife,  he 
reckons  every  thing  eUe  of  no  value. 

It  is  a  very  juit  obfervation  of  a  celebrated 
German,  that  there  are  fohtica!  as  well  as  religious 
Chcirtreux^  and  that  both  the  one  and  the  other  Or- 
der are  frequently  the  bef:  and  moft  pious  of  men. 
"  It  is  within  the  moft  retired  fnades  of  the  foreft," 
fays  this  writer,  "  that  we  meet  with  the  peaceful 
fage  and  tranquil  obferv^r,  the  friend  of  truth,  the 
lover  of  his  country,  w!  o  neither  defies  nor  calum- 
niates. Mankind  admire  his  wifdom,  enjoy  the 
beams  of  his  knowledge,  adore  his  love  of  truth, 
and  his  afFe<^ion  to  his  fellow-creatures.  They  are 
anxious  to  gain  his  confidence  and  his  friendfhip ; 
and  are  as  much  aftgniihed  at  the  wifdom  which 


proceeds  from  his  lip?,  rnd  the  re(^iude  vAiich  ac- 
companies all  his  aclions,  as  they  are  at  the  obfcu- 
rity  cf  his  name,  and  the  mjocie  cf  his  exiflence. 
They  endeavor  to  draw  him  from  his  Solitude,  and 
place  him  on  the  throne  ;  but  they  immediate  ly^ 
perceivi  infcribed  upon  his  forehead,  t)€aming  v/itrt 
faered  fire,  "  Odi  profanity  vulgus  et  aneo^'*  and  in- 
f:ead  of  being  his  fiducers^  thty  become  his  profe- 
lytcs." 

But,  ai.^.s !  this  political  Charfreux  is  no  more. 
I  faw  him  formerly  in  Wetteravia.  His  animated^ 
figure,  wh'ie  it  announced  the  highell  degree  of 
wifdom  and  the  happlc-ft' tranquiihty,  fiikd  my  bo* 
fcm  with  reip:^cl  and  fili  d  bve.  There  did  not, 
perh:.ps,  L>t  t  at  time  exift  a  c bar?. 61er  more  pro- 
found in  ariV  German  Court;  he  was  inum.ately 
acquainted  v/ith  all,  and  corrcfprnded  perfonally 
with  fom?,  of  the  mc-:-:  celebrated  Sovereigns  cf  Eu- 
rope. I  never  found,  in  any  fituiition,  an  obferv- 
er  who  pcncnated  with  fo  iXiUch  ikill  and  ceriainty 
into  the  thoughts  and  adior.s  cf  other  fflen;  wh^ 
had  formed  iuch  true  cpinicns  of  the  v/crld  in  G;en- 
eral,  and  of  thofe  who  played  the  molt  important 
characfters  on  its  theatre  :  never  was  a  mind  more 
free,  more  open,  more  energetic,  or  more  mild  ;  an 
eye  more  lively  and  penetrating  :  I  never,  in  fhort, 
knew  a  man  in  whole  company  I  could  have  lived 
with  higher  pleafure,  or  died  with  greater  coa:fcrto- 
The  plac^  of  his  retirement  in  the  country  w2S  mcd- 
ell  and  f^mple  ;  his  grounds  wilhruten,  and  his  ta- 
ble frug;.l.  The  charm  w^hich  I  felt  in  this  retreat 
cf  Welter .ivia,  the  refidence  of  the  venerable  Baroa 
de  Schautenbach,  is  inexprellibh\ 

Who  ever  poirelTed  more  energy  and  fire,  cr 
by  whom  w^ere  tne  hours  of  Solitude  ev^r  better 
employed,  than,  by  Rouifeau  during  the  litter  years 
of  his  life  I  it  was  in  his  old  age  that  he  wrote  the 
greater  and  tha  beft  part  of  his  works.  The  poor 
philofopher,  when  he  fdt  himiielf  verging,  to  the  pe^ 


apS  The  Lifluence  of  SQlitude* 

riod  of  his  exiftence,  endeavored  to  find  tranqtiilli- 
ty  of  heart  among  the  Oiades  of  Solitude  ;  but  his 
endeavors  were  in  vain.  Rouffeau  had  experien- 
ced too  frequently  the  fury  of  th:fe  who  are  ene- 
mies to  truth  his  feelings  had  been  too  frequently 
expoied  to  the  fevereft  and  moft  unmerited  perfecu- 
tions.  Before  he  difcovered  the  danger  of  his  fitu- 
ation,  he  had  fufFered,  as  well  from  his  weak  con- 
fiituticn  as  from  the  litde  care  he  had  taken  of  his 
health,  a  long  and  painful  ficknefs.  In  the  lafl  years 
of  his  life  the  effects  of  melancholy  and  chagrin  were 
more  apparent  thau  ever.  He  frequently  fainted, 
i^rnd  talked  wildly  when  he  was  ill.  Ail  that  Rouf- 
feau  wrote  during  his  old  age,"  fa^'s  one  of  our  re- 
fined _  critics,  w?.s  nonfenie."— Yes,"  replied 
his  fair  friend  with  greater  truth,  "  but  he  v/rote 
nonfenfe  fo  agree?. blv,  that  we  fonit times  like  to  talk 
confenfe  wiih  him.'' 

Old  age  app3:rs  to  Ve  the  prcperefl  feafon  of 
meditation.  The  ardent  fire  of  youth  is  iiifld,  the 
meridran  heat  cf  lite'^s  ^lort  day  is  paffed,  and  fuc- 
ceeded  by  the  foft  tranquillity  and  refreihlng  quiet- 
ude of  the  evening.  It  is  therefore  ufeful  to  devote 
fome  time  to  meditation  before  we  leave  the  world, 
whenever  we  can  procure  an  interval  of  repofe, 
TiiC  thought  alone  of  the  arrival  of  this  happy  peri- 
od recreates  the  mind ;  it  is  the  firil  fine  day  of' 
Spring  after  a  long  and  dreary  V/ inter. 

Peti-arch  Ccarcely  perceived  the  approaches  of 
old  age.  By  conftant  activity  he  rendered  his  re- 
tirement  always  happy,  and  even/  year  paiTed  in 
pleufure  and  tranquillity  unperceived  away.  From 
a  little  verdant  harbor  in  the  neighborhood  cfa 
Carthufian  monaltery,  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Setti- 
mo  v/ith  a  naivete  unknown  to  the  modern  manners : 
"  Like  a  wearied  traveller,  I  increafe  my  pace  in 
proportion  as  I  draw  nearer  the  end  of  ir.y  journey. 
I  read  an  \  write  night  and  day  ;  they  alternately 
relieve  each  other.  Thefe  are  my  only  occupations. 


The  Influep.cc  of  Solitude*  -299 

and  the  fource  of  all  my  pleafures.  I  lie  awake  a 
great  part  of  the  night.^  i  labor,  I  divert  my  mintl, 
and  make  every  eflbrt  in  my  power  :  the  more  dif- 
ficulties I  encounter,  the  more  my  ardor  increafes  ; 
novehy  incites  ;  obftacles  fharpin  me:  the  labor  is 
certain  ;  hvit  the  fuccefs  precarious".  INly  eyes  are 
dimmed  by  watchings ;  my  hand  tired  of  holding 
the  pen.  My  wilh  is,  that  poderity  may  know  me« 
If  I  do  nor  fucceed  in  this  wifh,  the  age  in  which  I 
live,  or  at  leaii:  the  friends  who  have  known  me.^ 
will  do  me  juftice,  and  that  is  fufficient.  My  health 
is  fo  good,  my  conllitution  fo  robuft,  my  tempera- 
ment IS  10  warm,  that  neiti^er  the  maturity  of  age, 
the  moft  ferious  occupations,  the  habit  of  continen- 
cy,  nor  the  power  of  time,  can  vanquifh  the  rebel- 
hous  enemy  which  I  am  obliged  inceifantly  to  attack. 
1  reiy  upon  Providence,  w^ithout  which,  as  it  has 
fre-queiitly  happened  before,  I  fhould  certainly  be- 
come its  victim.  At  the  end  of  winter  I  frequently 
take  up  arms  againfl  the  flefli ;  and  am  evvn  at  this 
moment  fighting  for  my  liberty  againiiits  moft  dan- 
gerous enemy/' 

In  old  age,  the  moft  obfcure  retirement  in  the 
country  advis  flill  greater  gi:>ry  to  thofe  arvlent  and 
energetic  inmds,  who  fly  from  the  world  to  termi- 
nate their  career  in  Solitude,  Though  far  removed 
from  the  theatre  of  their  fame,  they  (liine  with  high- 
er luilre  than  in  the  days  of  their  you'h.  "  It  is  ia 
Solitude,  in  exile,  and  on  the  bed  of  death,*'  Tays 
Pope,  "  that  the  nobleft  characters  of  antiquity 
Ihone  with  the  greatefl  (plendor  ;  it  was  then  tliat 
they  performed  the  greateil  fervlces ;  for  they  then 
communicr.ted  their  knowledge  to  mankind.'* 

Rouffeau  may  be  included  in  this  obfervation. 
It  is  certainly  doing  fome  fer\nce,*'  fiys  he,  "  to 
give  men  an  eximph  of  the  life  which  they  ought 
to  lead.  It  is  certainly  ufeful,  when  all  power  of 
mind  or  /Ireagth  of  body  is  decayed,  boldly  to  ma'.:  2 
msn^iftea  tothe  voice  of  truth  from  rciirement.  It 


300  Tk  Infiurice  of  SolUude, 

IS  of  fome  fervice  to  inform  m^n  of  the  abfurdity  of 
thcfe  opinions  which  render  them  miferabl?.  i  fhould 
be  much  more  ufelefs  to  my  countryman  liviog 
amorg  them,  than  I  can  be  in  the  occafion  of  my  re- 
treat. Of  what  importance  i^  it  where  I  live,  if  I 
act  as  I  oii^ht  to  acl  ?'* 

But  a  you!3g  lidy  of  Germany  did  not  under-  , 
(land  things  in  this  way.  She  maintained,  "  that  1 
RouiTeau  was  a  dan-^^erc-us  feducer  of  the  youthful 
mind  ;  and  that  he  had  a<ft:;d  extremely  wrong  in 
difcovering  in  his  coufelTions  all  his  faults,  his  vici* 
ous  inchnations,  and  the  worll  fide  ofhisjieart. 
Such  a  w  rrk  written  by  a  man  of  virtue  would  be 
immediattly  decried  ;  but  RoulTeau,  by  whofe  wri- 
tings the  wicked  are  fo  captivated,  in  his  irory  of 
the  Riiban  vole  evinces  a  heart  of  the  blackefl:  dye ! 
There  are  a  thoufind  palfages  in  that  book  from 
which  we  may  clearly  fee  that  his  p^en  was  guided 
by  vanity  alcne,  and  others  wh^re  we  feel  that  3:e 
utters  Icntiments  ?,gain(l  Ivis  L'.vn  conviction.  There 
is  no'.hing,  in  ihort,  throughout  the  work  which 
bsars  the  mark  of  truth  :  all  that  we  learn  from  it 
is,  that  Madame  de  Warens  was  the  original  from 
which  Rouff^au  copied  hisjiilia.  'J  he  (Jonfeflions 
of  RoiifTeau,  generally  Ipeaking,  contain  a  great 
many  fine  w jrds,  wiih  very  few  good  thoughts.  If, 
inftead  of  rejecting  every  opportunity  of  advancing 
iiimielf  in  life,  RoufTeau  had  engaged  in  any  kmd  of 
trade,  he  wciVid  have  been  more  ufefui  to  the  world 
than  he  has  been  by  the  publication  cf  his  danger- 
ous writings.'' 

This  incomparable  criticifm  upon  RoufTeau, 
merits  prefervation,  becaufe  I  believe  it  is  the  only 
one  of  its  kind.  I'he  Confeilions  of  RouiTeau  are 
certainly  not  prop?rTcr  the  eye  of  youth  ;  but  to 
me  they  are  works  as  replete  with  philofophy,  and 
as  worthy  of  attention,  ss  any  the  prefent  age  has 
prcDduced.  Their  inimitable  fbyle  and  enchanting 
teiiiU  are  their       merits  The  remotelt  poft^ty 


The  Injluence  of  Solitude*  301 

Will  read  the  CoiifeiTions  of  RoufTeau,  without  aflc- 
ing  how  old  the  author  was  when  he  gave  to  the  age 
in  w  :ick  he  lived  this  lait  inftance  of  the  fmceriiy 
of  his  heart. 

I'he  days  of  a  virtuous  old  mac,  v;ho  has  at- 
tained to  the  perfection  of  his  plea  fares,  flow  on 
with  ur.interrupted  gaiety  ;  he  then  receives  rhe  re- 
ward for  the  good  a61:lons  he  has  performed,  and 
carries  with  him  the  benediClions  of  ali  around  him. 
The  eye  is  n:ver  afraid  to  review  the  tranfidlicns 
of  an  honorable  and  virtuous  life.  I'he  energeiic 
mind  never  (hvdders  at  the  fight  of  a  tomb.  The 
Emprefs  Maria  Therefa  has  caufed  her  outi  mau- 
foleum  to  ba  ere\5ted  ;  and  frequently  flops  to  view 
a  monument,  the  dreadful  thoughts  of  which  fo 
few  can  bear  :  fhe  poin  s  it  out  to  the  obfervation 
of  her  children,  and  fays,  "  Is  it  poflible  for  us  to 
be  arrogant,  when  we  here  behold  what,  in  the 
courfe  of  a  few  years,  v/ill  become  the  depcfitory 
of  Emperors  r'^ 

There  are  few  men  who  think  with  fo  much 
fublimlty.  Every  one,  however,  may  retire  from 
the  world,  appreciate  the  paft  by  its  jufl  value,  and 
during  the  remainder  of  his  days  cultivate  and  ex- 
tend the  knowledge  hs  has  acquired.  Tiie  tomb 
will  then  l::le  its  menacing  afpedl;  and  man  wdll  look 
upon  de:ith  like  the  cloficg  evening  of  a  fine  day. 
The  puTs?  enjoyments  of  the  heart  frequently  engen- 
der religious  ideas,  which  reciprocally  augment  the 
pleasures  of  Soli  ude.  A  fimple,  innocent  and  tran- 
quil hfe  qualifies  the  htart  to  raife  itfelf  tov/ards 
God.  The  contemplation  of  nature  difpofes  the 
mind  to  rel'gious  devotion,  and  the  highafi  ellect  of 
religion  is  tranquillity. 

When  the  heart  is  p2retrated  with  true  fenti- 
ments  of  religion,  the  world  lofes  all  its  charms,  and 
I  he  bofom  feels  with  lei's  anguifh  the  miferies  and 
torments  attached  to  humanity.  You  live  continu- 
ally iu  verdant  meadows,  and  fee  voiirielf  furround- 
(XXVi.^  ' 


302  The  hrfluence  of  Solitude. 

ed  by  the  frefh  fpricgs,  upon  the  borders  of  which 
the  Shepherd  of  ifrael  fed  his  flocks.  The  tumult- 
uous hurry  of  the  world  appears  like  thundtr  roll- 
'  ingat  a  diltance  ;  like  the  murmuring  nolle  of  dii- 
tant  waters,  the  courfe  cf  which  you  perceive,  and 
whc  fe  waves  break  ao^ainll  the  reck  upon  which  you 
3 re  fafely  feated.  When  Addifon  perceived  that 
he  was  given  over  by  his  phyficians,  and  felt  his  end 
ppprcachirg,  he  fent  fcr  a  young  man  of  a  difpofi- 
tion  naturally  good,  ar.d  who  was  extremely  lerifi- 
ble  of  the  Icis  v/ith  which  he  was  threatened.  He 
arrived  ;  but  Addifon,  v/ho  w;.s  extremrly  feeble, 
and  whofe  life  at  this  m:)ir:ent  hung  quivering  cn 
h's  hps,  obferved  a  profound  filer: ce.  After  a  1  ng 
paufs  the  youth  at  length  addrelTed  him,  "  Sir, 
vou  defired  to  fee  me ;  fignify  your  commands,  and 
1  will  execute  them  with  rehgioiis  purftuality." 
Addifon  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  replied  in  his 
dying  voice,  "  Obf:^rve  with  what  tr.;nquiriity  a 
Chriilian  can  die."* 

Such  is  the  conf  lAtion  and  tranquillity  which 
rei'gion  affords  ;  fuch  is  the  peace  cf  mind  wl  ich  a 
life  of  firaphcity  aed  innoc-nce  procures :  a  condi- 
tion rarely  experienced  in  the  world.  Even  v/hen 
it  is  not  altogether  in  cm-  own  power  to  remove  the 
obiiacles  to  this  inward  peace  ;  to  oppofe  upon  all 
occofions  the  viftorycftr.e  world  ;  the  idea  of  facri- 
ficing  to  God  is  very  natural  and  affe^lir.g  to  every 
warm  and  virtuous  heart.  Why,  therefore,  are  we 
fb  connnu.dly  difcontented  and  miferable?  Why 
do  we  fo  frequently  complain  of  '.h3  want  cf  happi- 
nefs  and  erjoyment,  if  it  be  net  becaufe  we  permit 
the  mind  to  be  imp:  fed  upon  by  the  falfe  appe::ran- 

*  The  perfon  here  alluded  to  was  Lord  Warn-icic,  a  young  man 
of  very  hiegular  life,  and  perhaps  of  iocfe  opinions:  Addifon,  for 
whom  he  did  not  want  refptil,  had  very  dilis^ently  endeavored  to  re- 
claim him  ;  but  his  argunients  and  expoflulations  had  no  efreft  :  when 
he  found  his  iii^e  near  its  end,  ihciefoie,  he  direftcd  the  young  lord  to 
be  called,  and  made  this  iaft  experiment  to  reclsim  him.  What  efFedt 
this  awful  fcene  had  on  the  tail,  h  uulcaown  j  hslikewife  died  himfelf 
ill  a  {km  thiM.  The  Tranflator, 


The  Injkieme  &f  Solitude. 


tt%  of  things ;  becauCe  fenfuality  frequently  predom- 
inates over  reafon  ;  becaufe  we' prefer  deceitful  gifts 
and  fleeting  pleafures  to  more  elTential  and  perma- 
nent enjoyments ;  if  it  be  not,  in  one  word,  becaufe 
the  bofom  is  not  fenfible  of  the  auguft  precepts  of 
our  holy  religion  ? 

But  he  who  has  fludied  the  dcdrines  of  the 
gofpel,  who  has  meditated  upon  them  in  fibnce,  has 
nothing  more  to  defire,  provided  he  is  at  laft  fenlible 
of  th2  kind  of  charafter  which  he  forms  in  the 
world,  of  that  which  he  may  acquire  in  Sohtude, 
and  of  that  which  it  is  his  duty  to  attain.  If  he  is 
inclined  to  think  like  a  philofcpher,  and  I'  ve  like  a 
chriflian,  he  will  renounce  the  p:itbned  pleafures  ot 
the  world  which  enervate  his  mind,  banifh  every  fe« 
rious  thought,  and  prevent  the  heart  from  rifiag  to 
its  God.  i)ifguii:ed  with  the  frivolous  chimeras  of 
vanity  and  folly,  he  retires  to  a  diftance  from  them 
to  contemplate  his  own  charadler,  to  elevate  his 
mind  to  virtuous  refolutions,  and  to  refiga  himfelf 
more  entirely  ^  and  with  greater  permanency  to  the 
emotions  of  his  heart.  If  he  continues  to  fail  upon 
the  tempeituous  fea,  ftill  he  will  with  prudence  avoid 
the  rocks  and  fands  of  hfe  ;  will  turn,  during  the 
ilorm,  from  thofe  dangers  by  which  he  may  be 
v/recked :  and  feel  lefs  joy  in  thofe  hours  when  he 
fails  in  a  fair  wind  and  favorable  Iky,  than  in  thofe 
when  he  eludes  the  perils  which  furrcAind  him. 

To  the  man  who  has  accuilomed  his  mind  (i- 
lently  to  colieci  its  thoughts,  the  hours  which  he 
confecrates  to  God  in  Solitude  are  the  happiefi  of 
his  life.  Every  time  we  filently  raife  our  minds  to 
God,  we  are  carried  back  into  ourfelves.  We  be- 
come lefs  fenfible  of  t!:e  abfence  of  thofe  things  on 
which  we  placed  our  happinefs ;  and  exp?rience 
much  lefs  pain  in  retiring  from  the  noife  of  tne  worid 
to  the  filence  of  Solitude.  We  acquire  by  degrees, 
a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  ourfelves,  and  learn 
to  look  into  the  human  breait  with  a  more  philo-  - 


^  The  Inpucncc  of  SoI'mds* 

fophic  eye.  We  fcrutinize  cur  character  with  gfea^ 
er  feverily,  feel  with  higher  fenfibiUty  tiie  neceffiiy 
of  reformir.g  cur  coiiducSl:,  and  refled  more  mature- 
ly on  that  which  is  the  end  of  cur  lives.  If  we  know 
thofe  things  which  render  our  anions  more  accept- 
able in  the  fight  of  God,  it  ought  to  fatisfy  the  mhids 
of  men  that  we  do  g9cd  for  their  fakes ;  but  every 
good  v/ork  admits  of  fomany  fecondary  views,  that 
every  motive  muit  neceffarily  deper-d  upon  the  di- 
rections of  the  heart.  Every  good  a£i:ioii,  without 
doubt,  conveys  quietude  to  the  breafl  ;  but  is  this 
quietude  always  pure  ?  Was  not  the  mind  merely 
JKStuated  by  the  confideration  of  profane  and  vi^crld- 
iy  views  to  gratify  a  tranOent  pafTion,  or  irfluenced 
bv  felf-love  rather  than  by  the  feelings  of  brotherly 
atTeftlou?  We  certainly  difcufs  our  thoughts  and 
aclions  much  better,  and  probe  the  emotions  of  the 
heart  with  greater  fmcerity,  when  we  fele^l:  for  the 
examination  of  great  and  important  truths  thofe 
hours  when  v/e  are  alone  before  God. 

It  is  thus  that  in  Solitude  we  renounce  our  in- 
timate  connexion  wi:h  men  to  lock  back  upon  the 
tranfa£i:ions  of  life,  to  difcufs  cur  ccndudl  in  the 
world,  to  prepare  for  ourfelves  a  more  radonal  em- 
ployment in  future,  and  to  render  an  acccunt  of 
thole  aftions  we  have  yet  to  pc-rfcrm.  It  is  thus 
that  the  wounds  whiich  we  have  received  in  the  hof- 
till  ties  of  hfe  are  healed.  In  the  intervals  of  a  reli- 
gious retirement,virtuous  refclutions  are  more  eafi- 
ly  acquired  ;  the  heart  is  mere  eafily  appeafed  ;  and 
we  dii'cover  with  greater  certainty  the  fafe  road 
tiirough  all  the  formidable  perils  of  Hfe.  It  is  thus 
lint  we  are  never  lefs  alone  than  when  no  human 
being  is  near  us,  becaufe  we  are  then  in  the  prefence 
of  Him  whofe  will  it  is  of  the  highefl  impor ranee  to 
cur  happinefs  to  obey. 

Solitude  always  calls  us  from  v/eaknefs  to  pow- 
er, from  feduction  to  refjfc;ince,  from  that  which  is 
prefect  to  that  which  is  to  c: me,   Alihcugh  mea 


Tlje  Injluence  cf  Sohtiide,  30?' 

do  not  always  enter  into  Solitude  to  commune  witfi 
God,  it  is  neverthelefs  true  that  they  wiiliiigly  quit 
noily  and  tumulturas  affemblies  to  enter  into  the 
quieuide  of  his  tranquil  houfe,  that  they  may  not  be 
for  ever  obliged  to  lend  themfelves  to  the  pkafures 
which  poflefs  neither  delicacy  nor  morahty.  lu  ev- 
ery peaceful  moment  of  our  exiftence  we  are  more 
.  immen'ately  u[ider  the  eye  of  Him  whom  it  is  fo 
important  to  us  to  pleafe,  and  who  obferves  the  fage 
in  his  fjlent  meditations. 

The  apollles  of  fociety  raife  every  where  a  con- 
tinual clamor,  as  if  they  had  matters  of  verv  high 
importance  to  tr2.nfaft  in   tne  world.  Every 
one  ought  certainly  to  do  more  than  the  ftn^l  line 
of  duty  calls  upon  him  to  perform  ;  but  unhappily, . 
we  all  do  lefs  than  our  duty,  and  le:ive  the  affairs  of 
the  world  to  go  on  as  they  may.    The  energy  ne- 
cefiary  to  the  performance  of  great  actions,  eleva-  - 
tion  of  character,  and  ftabiiity  and  firmnefs  in  vir- 
tue, are  no  where  fo  eafily  acquired  as  in  Solitude, 
and  never  fo  efScaciouily  as  by  Religioa. — Religioa 
difeng-'.ges  the  heart  from  every  vain  defire,  renders 
it  tranquil  under  theprellure  of  misfortunes,  hum- 
ble before  God,  bold  before  men,  and  teaches  it  to 
rely  with  confidence  upon  the  protection  of  Provi- 
dence.   Solitude  and  religion  refine  all  our  moral 
fentimen' s,  while  we  remain  uninfected  with  the 
leaven  of  fanaticifm ;  and  at  the  conclufion  of  a  life 
paffed  in  the  pradice  of  every  virtue,  we  receive  the 
reward  for  ?.ll  the  hours  which  we  have  confecrated 
to  God  in  fil ance  ;  of  that  c^-nfcious  and  religious 
zeal  with  which  we  have  raifed  towards  hira  pure 
hands  and  a  chafte  heart. 

The  defire  for  the  things  of  this  world  difap- 
pears  whenever  we  acquire  fumclent  courage  boldly 
to  refiga  ourfelves  to  the  fentiment,  that  the  adua! 
ftate  of  lafting  content  and  conftant  fatisfaftion  of 
the  foul  has  probably  fome  anal  gy  to  the  joys  of 
eternity.  A  complete  liberty  to  be  and  to  do  what. 


5o6  The  Influence  of  Zolituie* 

ever  we  pleafe,  becaufe  that  in  heaven,  in  thrfe  re- 
gions of  Icve  and  kindnefs,  we  cannot  polfefs 
unjufi  or  improper  irxlinaticn  ;  a  life  '  .f  innocence  ; 
a  juftification  of  the  ways  cf  jprovi dence  ;  an  impli- 
cit confidence  in  God  ;  an  eternal  communion  with 
thofe  whom  our  fouls  loved  on  earth  ;  are,  at  leAfi, 
the  wifhes  and  the  hopes  which  we  may  be,  I  truft, 
permitted  in  our  worldly  apprehenfions  to  indulge, 
and  which  fo  agreeably  flatter  our  imagiaaticn. 
But  thefe  hopes  and  wifhes,  which,  at  prefent,  (bed 
a  glimmering  light,  muit  remain  like  dreams  and 
vifions  of  the  miiid,  until  the  tomb,  thick  clouds, 
and  darknefs,  no  longer  hide  eternity  from  human 
eyes ;  until  the  veil  Iball  be  re:iioved,  and  the  Eter- 
nal reveals  to  us  thofe  things  which  no  eyes  have 
ever  feen,  which  no  er.r  has  ever  heard,  which  have 
never  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  ;  for  with  fi- 
lent  fubm^liion  I  acknowledge,  that  eternity,  to  hu^ 
man  forefight,  is  like  that  which  the  color  cf  purple 
appeared  to  be  in  the  mind  of  a  bUnd  man,  who 

compared  it  to  the  found  of  a  trumpet* 

in  this  world,  Yull  of  reftniints  and  embarraff- 
ments,  of  troubles  and  of  pains,  the  enjoyments  of 
liberty,  leifure  and  tranquillity,  are  cf  ineflimabb 
value ;  every  one  fighs  to  obtain  ihem.,as  the  failcr 
fighs  at  fc-a  foriind,  and  ilicuts  with  triumph  when 
he  fees  it ;  but  in  order  to  be  fenfible  of  their  worth,, 
it  is  neceflary  to  h'Ave  felt  the  want  of  them..  We 
refembk  the  inhabitant  of  Terra  Finna^  who  cannot 
conc<:ive  an  idea  of  the  feelings  wJiichfill  the  bcfom 


*  Men,  in  general,  fondly  hope  in  eternity  for  all  that  is  flattering 
to  th-eir  talte,  inclinationsj  defires,  and  ps^ions  on  earth.  I  therefore 
rntirely  concur  in  opinion  with  a  celehiartd  German  philofopher,  M. 
Carve,  that  thofe  perfons  cannot  pofiefs  h-umility  of  heart  who  hope 
that  God  will  hereafter  reward  them  with  riches  and  honors,  it  was 
thefe  fentiments  which  occafioned  a  young  lady  of  Germany,  extreme- 
ly handfome,  to  fay,  fhe  hoped  XA  carry  with  her  into  the  next  world  a 
habit  of  fine  filver  tilTue,  zoned  with  feathers,  and  towalk.in  heaven 
♦•n  carpets  of  role-leaves  fpread  upon  the  firmament.  This,  ajfo,  was 
the  reafon  wliy,  in  a  full  aflembly  of  women  of  f.,ihion,  where  the  quef- 
tion  was  agitated,  whether  marriages  were  good  to  ali  eteinityj  they  ail 
vinanimoufly  ex«Uiaied,  G(.d  yrejerve  ut  from  U% 


The  Infdimc-of  SoUiiide,  ^^-j 

of  a  navigator.  For  myfelf,  I  do  not  know  a  more 
comfortable  notion,  than  that  eternity  proniiles  ci 
coi2ftant  and  uninterrupted  tranquillity,  although  I 
perfectly  feel  that  it  is  not  pofnbla  to  form  any  ideii 
of  the  nature  of  that  enjoyment  which  is  produced 
by  the  happinefs  without  end.  An  eternal  tran- 
quillity is  the  highefl:  happinefs  of  my  imagination, 
for  I  know  of  no  felicity  upon  earth  that  can  equal 
peace  of  mind. 

Since  therefore  internal  and  external  tranquil- 
lity is  upon  earth  an  inconteftlble  commencement  of 
beatitude^  it  may  bs  extremely  ufeful  to  believe,  that 
in  a  rational  and  moderate  abfence  from  the  tumults 
of  fociety,  we  may  acquire  faculties  of  the  foul 
which  are  elements  of  that  happinefs  we  expedi:  to 
enjoy  in  the  worl  J  to  come. 

I  now  conclude  my  Re{ie£blons  upon  the  Ad- 
vantages of  Solitude  to  the  Heart.  May  they  give 
greater  currency  to  ufeful  fentiments,  to  confolato- 
ry  truths,  and  contribute,  in  fome  degree,  to  dilFufe 
the  enjoyment  of  a  happinefs  which  is  fo  much 
within  our  reach  !  All  my  defires  will  then  be  fatis- 
fied.  As  for  the  reit,  let  every  one  live  according 
to  his  inclination,  exercife  Virtue  where  he  pleales, 
and  procure  at  his  option  Pleafure,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  which  he  will  be  certain  of  receiving,  both  here 
and  hereafter^  the  approbation  of  God  and  his  Qvm 
confcieac^. 


FINIS. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

PREFJCE  of  the  French  Tranjlator  .  3 

Lift*    Zimmchfidri  •  *  .  ^ 

CHAP.  L 

IntroduBion       -         .      -       ■         -  29 

CHAP.  ir. 

The  general  Advontages  of  Solitude      •         «  34 

CHAP.  III. 
The  Jnfuence  of  Solitude  upon  the  Mind      •       -  90 

C  H  A  P,  IV. 
The  Lrfluence  of  SoUtiide  upon  the  Heart      -  i8S 


BOOK  S 

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Valuable  Secrets  of  Arts,  Trades      -      -  Svt 

Jenks'  Devotions      -      -        -        -  100 

William  and  Jeanette      -      -        -  100 

Letters  of  Werter  and  Charlotte      -     -  100 

Wonderful  Stor^'^  Teller      -       -      -  loa 

Pilgrim's  Progrefs      -              -    .    -  75 

Peyroufe's  Voyage  round  the  World      -  100 

Warville's  Travels  in  America      -      -  100 

Dr.  Watts'  Ffalms  and  Hymns      -       -  50 

George  Barnwell — a  novel      -      -       -  100 

Seneca's  Morals,  (with  4  Plates)    -      -  loo 

Elements  of  a  Pclite  Education      -      -  125 

Man  of  Education  (with  Frontifpiece)      -  100 

Beauties  of  the  SpectiUors,  Tatlers,  &c.  2  vols.  22^^ 

Britilh  Claflics—Sele^lions,  &c.      -      -  100 

Addifonian  Mifcellany — Life  of  Addifon  100 

Cecilia — 3  vol?.      -      -      -      -       -  300 

Pv'liis  More's  Stridures  on  Female  Education  100 

Wilberforce  on  Religion      -      -       -  100 

Parental  Legacies      -      -      -      -  Syi 

Zimmerman  on  Solitude      -      -       -  ico 


}Fith  a  General  Ajfortmcnt  of  other: ^  chicflj  American 
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